We Are Young
by EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: Because second chances don't come along every day. Particulary not ones who stick around after you throw drinks on them.
1. Ruined Jeans and Apology Muffins

**Title: **We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> Peach  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> As of yet, nothing beyond a bit of language. Let me state early on that this will get _dark_, because despite the fact that I set out trying to write fluff, it veered rapidly in the opposite direction. But for now, it's all peachy.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Plot, mostly mine. Characters, really not. Nor, obviously, is the song, though I have been singing it (terribly) quite a lot.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> So, I do not like today. People expect me to be happy today, and I am not. Combine that with the fact that I am failing miserably at doing anything with the next chapter of _Hunger_, and we have me inflicting this thing on the world. Updates potentially once a fortnight, depending on how quickly I write it, how much people like it, and how often other projects decide to barge into my brain (which they do with alarming frequency). So, please, make my day a little brighter and review? Peach

_Tonight  
>We are young<br>So let's set the world on fire  
>We can burn brighter<br>Than the sun  
><em>**We Are Young, **Fun. ft Janelle Monae

**We Are Young**

**Ruined Jeans and Apology Muffins**

He didn't meet Merlin in a bar. For Gwaine, that was something of an achievement. He should probably have known, then and there, that that meant something big, something important.

After all, Merlin was not by anyone's standards normal.

But anyway, his first meeting with Merlin was hot, sticky, and slightly painful.

Merlin worked in a coffee shop. Poorly. It wasn't his fault, and no one had ever questioned his dedication to his job. But he had the unfortunate combination of delightful enthusiasm and dangerous clumsiness, and so Gwaine, sat quite contentedly (okay, no, he had a bitch of a hangover and really just wanted the strongest cup of coffee known to man before forcing himself to go to work) at a low, round table, ended up with someone else's drink in his lap.

Facing the thought of spending the rest of the day smelling of toffee and wearing hideous brown stains on his best _doesn't my arse look fantastic?_ jeans – and oh, God, were those _marshmallows_ stuck to his legs? –, Gwaine rounded on the man with the same anger anyone would.

"What the hell do you-" he began, cutting himself short when he actually laid eyes on him. The man was tall and gangly, pale skinned and dark haired, and he looked like he'd been dressed by a colour-blind five year old (an image only further emphasised by the green half-apron he smoothed out as he stood, and the ridiculous hat he returned to his head). This alone would have been nothing to write home about, but the cheekbones on this guy...Gwaine's hand, previously occupied with trying to sponge the coffee – he used the word loosely – from his leg with paper napkins, twitched with the desire to touch. He resisted it; stroking the cheekbones of a complete stranger would be entirely inappropriate, and there was a tiny, idiotic, and possibly still intoxicated part of his mind that thought doing so might have cut him.

"Damn," the man said, after looking hopefully for the cup and seeing it laying a metre or so away, its contents splattered across Gwaine's thighs. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the napkins from Gwaine's very startled hands, taking over dabbing at the stains. "Damn. I am _so_ sorry."

Wide eyes, startlingly blue, blinked up at Gwaine, effectively wiping the last strains of anger from his mind. "It's fine," he replied, though of course it wasn't. "Stop that." He batted the hands away from him, with the expectation that the man would stand up and retreat to a slightly less personal distance.

"Really, I'm sorry," the man continued, still kneeling and looking at Gwaine in a way that made him feel the blonde girl he'd left in a flat somewhere that morning had been an uncomfortably long time ago. "Let me- I don't know, let me get you a free drink, or I- I can pay for your trousers to be cleaned or-"

"Look, mate, it's not that bad. Just get me my coffee and we're cool."

"Oh, yeah." The man rose, finally, to his feet. "I'll just go do that."

"Merlin! Merlin, where are- what are you doing?" The speaker was a girl – okay, woman, about Gwaine's age – dark skinned and pretty, wearing a denim miniskirt and yellow t-shirt under the hideous apron and hat. "Merlin, that's the third time this month."

The woman's tone of exasperation – which Gwaine had initially thought a little extreme, because everyone made the odd mistake (Gwaine's latest being the aforementioned blonde, name unknown/unrecalled) – began to make sense. Spilling one drink on a customer was bad, yes, but not unforgiveable. Three in only sixteen days had to be some sort of record.

"Are you alright, sir?" She asked, smiling kindly. "Merlin will just go get you your coffee now, on the house, and if you have difficulty with those stains you just bring in the dry-cleaning bill and we'll take care of it for you." With that, she hustled away the man – Merlin – and left Gwaine with a handful of crumpled, damp napkins, a slightly stronger headache than before, and a peculiar desire to smile.

A desire he successfully resisted, because smiling widely after being doused in something disgustingly syrupy and unnaturally frothy would definitely have been a decisive sign of insanity.

He thought, though, as Merlin brought out his coffee and placed it very carefully on the table, that he wouldn't be entirely against the possibility of going back there.

X

The second time Gwaine went by the coffee shop, Merlin didn't appear to be working; the counter was instead manned by a slightly grungy looking brown-haired guy.

"Okay then," he said, when Gwaine had made his order. "If you take a seat, someone'll bring that over for you in a minute.

Even if Merlin didn't seem to be around, Gwaine preferred not to take the chance. "I'll wait here, thanks."

The guy looked him up and down in an assessing sort of way, a touch of confusion to it, then laughed. "Merlin's latest vic, right?"

"Yeah. That happen a lot?" Gwaine asked, already knowing the answer.

"Merlin's a good guy, don't get me wrong. He's been my mate since we were kids. But he's kind of a klutz."

"Noticed that already, really."

"I suppose you would have," Grunge-Guy laughed. "Still, you're safe for now. He doesn't start 'til this afternoon."

Gwaine nodded, smiling slightly. "I'll sit, then."

He did so, at the same table as before, wondering at the reason for the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't, after all, have been disappointment. No one sensible could get disappointed over not seeing a man they didn't even know.

X

Still, the third visit he made was within two weeks of the first, at a time when he was pretty sure Merlin would be working (so maybe he had glanced in the window every time he'd walked past to see if Merlin was there, but it wasn't like he'd gone out of his way to do it. Much).

"So, you came back? I didn't think I'd see you again," Merlin told him, smiling, as Gwaine placed his order.

"Guessing the others didn't like the coffee enough to risk you, then," Gwaine smirked in response, then sort of regretted it. Insulting the guy you may or may not be trying to flirt with was never a good idea, even if it was only as a joke.

Fortunately, though, Merlin clearly had a sense of humour, choosing to laugh instead of taking offence. "No, I guess not. Still, I'm glad you're back." Gwaine blinked at him, slightly startled – because yes, he knew he was gorgeous, but Merlin didn't seem the type to flirt so overtly –, and Merlin blushed. "That wasn't - I didn't - I just meant, we make the best coffee in town. It would be a shame if you had to drink shitty coffee because of me."

"Right-oh, then. Thanks, Merlin." Someone tutted behind Gwaine, and he realised there was quite a queue forming behind him. "I'll sit, if you think you can bring my drink over without throwing it on me."

He turned to find a table, grabbing the last paper from the rack by the counter as he passed; _The Sun_, because who didn't love tits and outrage first thing in the morning?

Ten minutes later, when Gwaine was sincerely wishing there'd been any other paper to choose from and wondering just where his drink was, a large mug was oh-so-carefully placed in front of him. "Your drink, sir. And not in your lap this time."

"For which I am truly grateful, I assure you."

"Grateful enough to let me join you?" Merlin asked, adding a second mug and two muffins to the table. "Chocolate chip or blueberry? I didn't get your name earlier."

"Gwaine," he replied, after a moment of trying to figure out just how those two sentences were related (they weren't, he decided), then helped himself to the blueberry muffin (not his favourite, but better than chocolate). He would have given Merlin the okay to sit, but apparently he decided he didn't need it after all. "Aren't you supposed to be working, or something? Not that I mind, but..." Gwaine shrugged.

"Break-time." Merlin broke off a piece of muffin and popped it in his mouth. "Mmm. Eat that, would you. Apology cakes are the best sort."

"Apology cakes?"

"Yeah. Whenever Gwen and I – you met her when you were here before – used to argue, she'd bake to make up for it. It's how we say sorry. Don't worry, though; I didn't make these. I just serve them."

Gwaine peeled back the wrapper from his muffin and took a bite, surprised at how good it was. Merlin grinned, wide and goofy, at his face. "Yeah, you can see why I'd forgive her anything, can't you? Her cookies are even better, but they're not done yet."

"You've worked here a while, then?" Gwaine asked, between a slurp of coffee and another bite of muffin.

"Through university, yeah. I moved back home for a couple of years afterwards, then came back last summer. But I've known Gwen and Will for years; we went to school together."

"Will?"

"The other guy who works here. About your height, sandy hair. He mentioned he'd seen you in here last week."

Grunge-Guy, Gwaine realised, but had more sense than to say it out loud. "Yeah. He told me you were a klutz. Which, I have to say, I'd sort of worked out already. And if you really wanted to show you were sorry, you'd offer to buy me a drink tonight." So Gwaine wasn't entirely sure Merlin would be interested (hell, he hadn't even worked out whether Merlin was into blokes at all), but he'd always lived by the theory of nothing risked, nothing gained.

"Sorry. Working tonight." Merlin's nose wrinkled and Gwaine tried to move past thinking it was an unexpectedly cute facial expression and work out what it meant. Disgust at the idea? Displeasure at it being Gwaine who was asking? Genuine regret?

"I didn't know this place was open that late," Gwaine said, fishing slightly, then apologised when he realised how that sounded just a little like he was accusing this guy he barely knew of lying. "That didn't sound the way I meant it to."

"Didn't it?" Merlin replied, left eyebrow slightly raised, and Gwaine fidgeted uncomfortably. "Anyway, we aren't. I work three nights a week at Gedref's. It's a bar a few streets from here."

"Yeah, I know it." He didn't suggest a different day, though, because even if it was true it didn't mean that it wasn't also a convenient way to brush him off. "Speaking of working," he continued, after glancing at his watch, "I have to be going now. Thanks for the muffin."

Gwaine swallowed the last dregs of his coffee and stood, the half-eaten muffin in his left hand. "It was good talking to you," he said, sticking his right hand out to shake.

Merlin rose to his feet as well, holding Gwaine's hand just a second or two too long as he studied him carefully. "Friday," he said, letting go.

"What?"

Merlin smiled. "Meet me here at seven. An apology muffin is more than enough to say sorry, but I have no problem with you buying me dinner."

"Do you not?" Gwaine asked, face and voice deadpan but grinning mentally. "Interesting."

Merlin's face fell, his eyes looking anywhere but at Gwaine's. "Sorry, I didn't - I mean, I thought you were - I didn't mean to be presumptuous."

"You weren't. I was. Just joking, mate. Friday at seven sounds good. I'll see you then." Merlin's goofy grin made a come-back, and Gwaine thought it was probably reflected on his own face.

"Friday. You can tell me all about that job you're hurrying off to now."


	2. Noble Steeds

**Title: **We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> Peach  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Bugger all, me thinks. Even the language is all child friendly, far as I can recall.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Plot, mine. Characters, I wish.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Meh. Chapter two, clearly. Updating this today, because Tuesday and Wednesday are entirely too close together, and because I am feeling in need of affection. So, yeah. Review, pretty please. Love, Peach.

**We Are Young**

**Noble Steeds**

When Friday came around, Gwaine had no freaking idea what to wear. It was not a dilemma he had very often.

For one, he wasn't big on dating. Or, at least, not big on dating near-strangers. He met people in bars, bought them drinks, got to know them a bit. Taking them out to dinner came later, if it came at all. Merlin was, apparently, an exception. He'd always been a sucker for a good pair of cheekbones, regardless of the gender of the body they came attached to (he'd watched Buffy as a teen, and still remembered his thoughts when Spike first showed up – and hadn't that been a revelation and a half), and the sense of humour that came with the face tipped him well into the category of exceptional.

Which was sort of the second problem. Merlin had already seen (and ruined) Gwaine's best jeans, his second best were in the wash (and he cursed himself for not doing laundry more often), and anything else would be either too formal or too informal, depending on what Merlin decided to wear. He would call Merlin to see what he wanted to eat, but he didn't have his number, and dropping by the coffee shop would be showing just a little too much in the way of nerves.

His phone rang a matter of minutes after he finished buttoning his shirt (white, not quite dressy, and combined with slightly scruffy jeans and his leather jacket, borderline bad boy), the annoyingly chirpy tone coming from somewhere in the region of his bed. He pushed aside the stack of clothing (a small stack, but yes, well into the realm of stackhood) to dig it out. Leon, a mate from work – possibly the only mate he had, and wasn't that a pathetic thing to admit to? No one but himself to blame, maybe, what with the years he spent building up his terrible rep with regards to the girlfriends of friends (on occasion, the friends themselves), and Leon only stuck around because Gwaine was way too scared of his girlfriend to make a move on her.

"What is it, mate?" he asked, picking up the phone before it could ring through to voicemail. "I'm going out in a minute, I know you know that." He might have mentioned his date over the last few days. Just once or twice.

Leon chuckled at him down the line. "No hello, Gwaine? And I was just ringing to wish you luck with your coffee-spilling menace."

Gwaine wondered if he might have underestimated the strength of his friendship with Leon; if he'd gone out of his way to phone just to wish Gwaine luck, maybe Leon was slightly more than the only guy who could put up with being friends with him. "Thanks, Leon."

"No problem. I've never seen you looking forward to a date this much." Or maybe Leon just relished the opportunity to laugh at Gwaine losing his cool; everyone loved seeing their (sort of) boss ruffled by something simple. Either way, it was still unexpected, in a good way.

"Yeah," Gwaine laughed, almost certain Leon actually counted as a friend, not just one of those I-work-with/for-you-so-I-have-to-pretend-I-don't-hate-you people. For that reason, he did something he'd never really thought of doing before. "Hey, if you're not busy tomorrow evening, we could get drinks or something. I can tell you how much of an ass I make of myself tonight, and you can tell me how things are going with Morgana." He thanked God for unusual names, he really did, and hoped the pause before it wasn't long enough to be noticeable.

"That sounds good, yeah." Leon sounded sort of surprised. "I'll call you tomorrow to work out when and where. You need to be leaving now, I reckon."

Gwaine moved his phone far enough from his ear to see the time it read. "Crap. Thanks again, mate." He hung up, wedging the phone in one pocket, his wallet in the other.

Of course, having solved the clothing dilemma, Gwaine now faced one of equal importance (at least he wasn't a girl, he thought, with the stupid levels of face-paint they put on before going out). Transport.

His bike, sexy as it was – twenty first century equivalent to a noble steed, not that he though Merlin needed a knight in shining armour – wasn't really an option. Regardless of what people thought, Gwaine wasn't an idiot; riding a motorcycle without proper gear was stupid, and he didn't think his spares would fit Merlin. That sort of left his Porsche, which hardly screamed modesty; not the best way to impress a guy who worked two low wage jobs, but he didn't have much choice (and damn his liking for flashy wheels).

He snagged his keys from his bedside table, and thought briefly about clearing the clothes from his bed, then decided against it. He was already far too close to running late, and Merlin didn't really seem the type to come home with a guy on the first date. The mental check-list run through went okay – keys, wallet, phone, trousers, boots by the front door, jacket on a hook in the same place – so that was that. Time to leave.

Gwaine did not run downstairs (though he may possibly have jumped the last three steps), nor did he walk faster than normal down the hall to check the back door was locked. He probably should have done, really; by the time he had pulled on his boots, set the alarm code and locked both locks on the front door, he was running five minutes later than he'd intended to be, a time only increased by having to remove his car from the garage.

Still, he drove at the speed limit the whole way there – or, at least, the whole way where he knew there were cameras, because his baby was not meant to be confined to pathetically low speeds and he had lost time to make up for –, arriving outside the coffee shop at five to seven. Merlin was standing outside the door waiting for him.

Gwaine pulled up neatly at the kerbside and climbed out of the car, hoping against hope it wouldn't put Merlin off. He liked his car, Goddamnit; she was a gift from his dad for actually working at university and he didn't want her ruining this date, or this date ruining her.

"Hi," he said, slightly hesitantly. "How are you?" Gwaine walked around the car to stand next to Merlin.

"Not bad. This is your car?" Merlin extended his hand towards the car, stopping before he actually touched it. "Didn't have you pegged for a Porsche guy."

Gwaine nodded, "yeah, she's mine. It was this or my bike." He laughed at Merlin's sceptical expression. "Motorcycle, not push-bike. Figured you'd like her better. She alright?"

"Alright? You're picking me up in a Porsche and you're worried that that's not okay? Where are you taking me for dinner?"

"I'm not that rich, Merlin. Sorry to disappoint." He opened the passenger door for Merlin (it wasn't sexism if you were both blokes, just good manners), closed it behind him, then walked around the car and got in himself. "What do you want to eat? And don't ask what I want, because I'm buying. You get to choose."

Merlin snort-laughed (really not something Gwaine should have found attractive) as Gwaine pulled away from the kerb. "Pizza? I know somewhere, if you...?"

Gwaine glanced away from the road as he slowed to a stop at a set of traffic lights to see what Merlin was wearing; jeans, neater than Gwaine's own, and a dark blue, long-sleeved t-shirt. Nowhere too formal, then, and wasn't Gwaine glad he hadn't dressed up too much (though his beard, hair and attitude did a fairly good job of dressing down most outfits, he knew). "Nah, I got it. A place I go to a few miles out of town. That okay?" At Merlin's nod, he stuck his left indicator on and fought with the blankness in his mind for something else worth saying.

"It occurs to me," Merlin stated, with remarkably little inflection, as they accelerated away from the lights, "that I know very little about you. Not your job, where you live, your last name. All I do know is your coffee order."

"I manage a restaurant. Behind the scenes stuff, mostly; I don't deal with customers except when necessary. I live about fifteen minutes out of town, in that new development they've been building for the last couple of years. And my last name," Gwaine paused and braced himself for whatever Merlin's reaction was going to be. "My last name is Lothian."

Merlin gaped, slightly. "As in...?" Gwaine nodded, trying to keep his eyes facing forward rather than looking at Merlin. "Well, that explains the car, then. And the jacket."

Gwaine hadn't even considered the possibility that his jacket might draw attention as much as his car, although he'd probably have worn it even if he had, mostly for lack of anything else. Besides, if money was going to be an issue it was better to find out sooner rather than later. "I need the jacket; never ride without it. The car I got for getting a first at uni, despite all expectations to the contrary." He sighed, mostly at himself. "Yes, my father owns the Lothian restaurant chain. I don't take handouts, though, not even from family."

"And your restaurant?"

"Is his, yes." Gwaine hoped his voice conveyed just how unhappy he was with that fact. "I waited tables in the restaurants through school. Studied Business and Management at university, then applied for the job like anyone else. He offered me one of the London branches. I said no." He could have gone on to say that his brother, a year younger and somewhat less qualified, accepted the offer when it was made to him, but he had a feeling doing so would tip him from rich jackass to hypocrite.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to...to offend you. Or something," Merlin said, after a moment of silence, confused but still apologetic.

Gwaine felt immediately regretful. "Don't be, you didn't. It's one of those things that you really don't like to think about, you know? The fact that I probably wouldn't have a job if I wasn't my father's son. I envy you, Merlin Whoever-You-Are."

"Emrys. And I wouldn't, if I were you," Merlin replied. Gwaine would have asked why, but was distracted by the need to find a parking space that didn't leave any opportunities for someone to hit his car.

"We're here," Gwaine announced, somewhat unnecessarily, when the car was stationary.

"_This _is where you're taking me?" Merlin's astonishment was understandable. The restaurant was hardly the most prepossessing of buildings. A squat, rectangular prefab structure, single story, with peeling paint and a crooked sign reading _Ricardo's_.

"I know. It's better than it looks, trust me. Son of a big-shot restaurateur, here; I know good food when I see it." Merlin continued to look reluctant, but got out of the car before Gwaine had the chance to open the door for him, and followed willingly when Gwaine headed towards the building.

The inside put up a slightly less off-putting front, but only slightly. The paint on the walls wasn't cracked and peeling as it was outside, but it had clearly faded from some other shade. It was clean, though, and the tables, covered in cheesy red and white checked tablecloths, were more full than the number of cars in the car park suggested.

"Table for two?" A server asked them as they walked in, his accent distinctly Italian. The question was apparently a rhetorical one, since the man led them to a table in the corner and handed them a menu each.

"Thanks," Gwaine said, then turned to the drinks page of the menu. "Do you want to share a bottle of wine?" he asked Merlin. He didn't particularly appreciate wine, but it was a date, right?

"Nah, I don't drink. You have whatever, though," Merlin shrugged, perusing the main courses. "Are you having a starter?"

"Wasn't planning on it. You don't drink at _all_? You work in a bar." Something in that didn't compute; sure, Gwaine was hardly an unbiased judge when it came to alcohol, but he couldn't imagine being surrounded by that much booze and never drink any of it.

Merlin looked up at him briefly. "No. I don't drink at all. I'm thinking four cheese." His gaze returned to the menu once again in a very clear refusal to continue discussing the matter.

Gwaine felt obliged to apologise, but Merlin, if the set of his shoulders was anything to go by, wasn't prepared to hear it. "Okay. Ham and pineapple for me." He shut his menu to the sound of Merlin's surprised laughter.

"People actually eat that? I always thought it was just there to make everything else sound better. What happened to 'trust me, I know good food'?"

"And I do. Try it, if you want."

"Hmm," Merlin said, "maybe." Gwaine didn't even bother to ask if that was the sort of 'maybe' that translated directly to 'no'; Merlin's face made that perfectly clear. Merlin smiled and placed his closed menu on top of Gwaine's on the table. "So, tell me, of the fifty-something restaurants your father owns, why'd you pick this one?"

Gwaine's explanation (that the restaurant was both the one in the smallest town and the only one failing miserably in the profit margins, and Gwaine suffered some ridiculous – in his father's eyes – need to prove himself before being willing to take over a bigger branch) carried them through ordering and well into eating their meals. When there didn't seem to be anything left for Gwaine to say, he figured it was Merlin's turn. "So, you worked in the shop through university. What did you study?"

"Physics. With a side of philosophy."

Gwaine blinked, that being so very much not what he expected. Even if they were only in the 'getting to know you' stage of things, Gwaine was pretty sure Merlin didn't seem like the sort of guy who'd spend three years buried in formulas and crusty philosophy texts. "I'd've pegged you for literature, maybe art, to be honest." Gwaine had dated the odd art student while at university himself (they had almost as much of a rep for being easy as he did) and Merlin had the same air of being distracted by things visible only to him.

"Really? I can't draw to save my life. And lit professors tend to frown upon those who only read books in which magic of some sort plays a key part." Merlin laughed, slightly self-deprecatingly, then sobered. "No, I like the rules. There's nothing to physics that can't be explained. And the philosophy...my" – Merlin's swallowed, and his eyes flicked away from Gwaine, then back – "my girlfriend at the time studied it. I audited a few classes with her, then signed up for a couple of modules when I found I like it more than I thought I would."

Gwaine tried very hard not to react to the mention of a girlfriend. It wasn't that she was female – that'd be somewhat hypocritical, since he had no problem with dating girls and guys himself – so much as the sadness in Merlin's voice as he spoke of her. The girlfriend, whoever she was, had clearly been important to him, and feelings that strong didn't just disappear. It was far too soon to ask about her, on only their first date, so Gwaine settled instead for saying, "huh," then asked Merlin if he wanted dessert.

"What would you suggest?" Merlin asked, clearly grateful for the subject change.

"The cheesecake here is good." Were this almost anyone else, Gwaine would have gone on to say there was a tub of ice cream in his freezer, but he actually liked Merlin (or what he knew of him, which was hardly a lot) and sleeping together (or suggesting it) on the first date probably wasn't the best of ideas. "Or the tiramisu, if that's something you like."

Merlin nodded, smiling at Gwaine like he'd passed a test of some sort, and Gwaine had the uncomfortable sensation that Merlin knew what he had been thinking. "Cheesecake it is, then, I think."

"So you trust my opinion now?" Gwaine laughed.

"Well, you were right about the pizza. I might have to come back here. I'd love to see my housemate's face if I bought him here."

"Housemate?" The question on Gwaine's mind was more along the lines of 'him?' (and why Merlin might be brining a man he lived with anywhere), but he preferred not to come off as unreasonably jealous quite so early on.

"Yeah, sort of," Merlin began, then paused so that he and Gwaine could order desserts (cheesecake and tiramisu, respectively). When the waitress – Gwaine was pretty sure she was a sister to the waiter who had sat them – had left, taking their dessert menus with her, he continued. "It's his house; I've lived there since I moved back. I was supposed to be finding my own place as soon as possible, but...I didn't. We were assigned the same flat in our first year at uni, and I hated him for months until I realist he wasn't quite as much of a prat as I thought. We got a house with a few friends, second and third year. I really should find a flat for myself, but he insisted I stay. It's his way of apologising, though of course he doesn't have to."

"Why's he think he does?" Gwaine queried, aware as he did so that it wasn't necessarily wise or, for that matter, any of his business.

"It's not important," Merlin said, in a tone that suggested it was very important but he didn't want to say what it was. In the interests of a) eating his pudding and b) landing a second date, Gwaine pretended to buy it.

They forewent coffee after finishing eating; Gwaine paid the bill in full, refusing to accept when Merlin offered to pay for his half, but willing to let him leave the tip (compromise was important, and Gwaine could never be happy with someone who didn't reward competent service). They left the restaurant with a smile and a thank-you to the wait-staff and headed towards Gwaine's car.

Merlin waited until they were seated to ask Gwaine if he could borrow his phone, please, necessitating some awkward wriggling on Gwaine's behalf in order to extract the thing from his pocket. "Here," he said, handing it over. "Where to?"

"Hmm," Merlin replied, more of his attention on the keypad in front of him than on Gwaine's question. He paused momentarily in his pressing of buttons to give Gwaine yet another assessing look. "Head back the way we came. I'll give you directions to mine when we get closer."

"Don't you want to get your car from the coffee shop?" Gwaine asked, ignoring the voices in his head debating whether or not that was an invitation and whether or not he would accept it if it was.

"No, someone will give me a lift in the morning. Don't worry about it." He turned his attention to the phone again, this time dialling a number and holding it to his ear for a couple of seconds but not saying anything.

"You're not doing anything illegal, are you? I really wouldn't do well in prison; I'm not as tough as I look." That was as close as Gwaine could get to asking Merlin what he wanted his phone for without crossing the line into rudeness.

"You're safe. It's all above-board, I promise. And I'm done now." He put the phone in a cup holder in the central console and looked out at the streets around them. "Turn right up here, please."

Gwaine did so, following Merlin's directions towards an increasingly posh neighbourhood, the houses growing steadily with each road they turned down. "Okay, third on the left." Gwaine slowed steadily, indicator on, feeling slightly incredulous. "Yeah, that one."

"_Damn_," Gwaine said. "How rich is your friend?"

Merlin laughed, quietly. "His dad is richer than yours, I'd wager, and it took quite a while for me to persuade him to let me pay rent." He rubbed at his wrist through his shirt, stopping when he looked down, away from Gwaine's face, and seemed to work out what he was doing. He moved his hand to the door handle and said, "you don't need to get out. I can open the door myself."

He looked concerned, like he was worried how Gwaine was going to react to this blatant turn-down. Gwaine nodded, trying once again to remain expressionless. There were plenty of other people in the world, and it wasn't like he knew Merlin all that well; it was nothing.

"I had a good time tonight," Merlin told him, sounding more sincere than Gwaine would have expected.

"Yeah, me too," he replied, meaning it entirely, even though he suspected Merlin hadn't.

He watched Merlin as his eyes flicked towards the house, scanning it for something, before meeting Gwaine's gaze again. He unclicked his seat belt and leant across into Gwaine's side of the car. "Really, I did," he said softly, a matter of inches from Gwaine's face.

Even with this much indication of Merlin's intent, Gwaine still wasn't capable of responding to the quick press of Merlin's lips against his own, too surprised that this date hadn't been quite as much of a wash as he had thought. By the time he had worked out that some kind of response was probably a good idea, Merlin had already pulled back and opened the door.

"Thanks," he said, closing the door without waiting for a reply and waving as he walked up the path between well-manicured hedges to the house large than Gwaine's childhood home. Gwaine waved back, forgetting momentarily that the tinted windows meant Merlin would be able to see him do so, and waited until Merlin was inside the house before setting off back to his own home, smiling in a bemused but generally contented way.

It was only when he had parked his baby safely in the garage that he realised Merlin had neither given him his phone number nor made any mention of a second date.


	3. The WorstBest Part

**Title:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> Peach  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>An f, and bugger all else. Well, an f, a little bit of blasphemy, and Gwaine setting a bad example.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Plot, yes, characters, no.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Teeny tiny pathetically short chapter for you all this time. Next one is longer, louder, brighter, and at some point results in Gwaine's death. No, that's a joke. Mostly a joke. Sort of. Well, you'll just have to wait and see, I suppose. That said, I like the following one. Things happen in it, unlike this. Technically Saturday here, even if it's rather early. Have a sneaky suspicion my actual Saturday will be filled with packing and driving miles and I won't actually get time to do this then. Criticism, comments or compliments welcomed and seized upon with much delight and exuberance. Make a person happy, please? Love, Peach.

**Chapter Three**

**The Waiting is the Worst/Best Part**

"Do you know what he did with your phone?" Leon inquired, after Gwaine had finished recounting his evening.

"That's what you choose to focus on? Not the horrendous case of mixed signals he gave me all evening. You want to know he wanted my phone for." Gwaine swallowed the dregs of his beer and regretted it instantly. He'd offered to give Leon a lift back home when they were done, which left him at a strict one drink maximum. It sort of made going out for drinks a little ridiculous, given that drinking was supposed to be a key part of that.

When Leon didn't seem inclined to ask any other questions, Gwaine answered him. "No, I don't. I looked, but he cleared whatever number he rang from the call history, and there weren't any sent messages or anything." Because he had been perfectly willing to lend his phone without asking why, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try find out afterwards. "I thought maybe he added his number to my phone book, but...nope."

"You know where he works, though."

"Yeah, and showing up won't be in the slightest bit awkward if he didn't want to hear from me again." So maybe Gwaine had thought about it, just a bit, in the twenty or so hours between getting home and meeting Leon for beers.

"So, let me get this straight," Leon said. "You come into work one day, coffee down your best jeans, smiling like a loon, despite the fact that I know you yelled at whoever your last date was for almost dripping wine on them. You stalk his workplace for a week or two, then, when you finally work up the courage to speak to him again, you let him ask you to buy him dinner. You talk about nothing else for three days, have a great time, then leave the evening without going for anything more than a kiss, and even that was his idea."

Leon looked at him like this was supposed to mean something. It didn't. "And your point is...?" Gwaine asked, realising that he wasn't going to elaborate without prompting.

"No point. Just...you must really like this guy."

Gwaine gave one of the head-tilt-shrug-nod things universally recognised as code for 'yes' when someone didn't want to admit it. "Another drink, mate?" He stood and made his way to the bar, ignoring Leon's laughter as he went.

X

Gwaine spent most of the weekend _confused_. At least, the parts of the weekend he was sober for. It wasn't so much that drinking made things any less confusing, but it made him a little bit more distractible, and a whole lot less worried about what exactly he was supposed to do about Merlin and the really rather absurd crush he was developing on him.

By Monday, his confused drunkenness had resolved itself into miserable sobriety. Usually, a morning with a headache like that would begin with several cups of coffee at home before work, then another, professional mug on the way in. That Monday, though, he skipped the final one – Merlin was right, they did have the best coffee in town, but Gwaine wasn't exactly happy to show up there – and felt the effects of it all day. He needed his proper coffee, Goddamnit, not the instant swill he drank at home or the slightly better but still not coffee shop quality stuff he drank at work.

He dawdled the morning away hiding in his office pretending to be doing paperwork, leaving the actual managing of people to Leon (technically head chef, but more than capable of organising the women who worked the lunch shift). The dinner rush required him to be slightly more available, but the variety of pimply-faced teenagers Gwaine felt obliged to employ (jobs were pretty scarce, and being ridiculously young to hold his job himself Gwaine figured they'd make him look slightly older) managed not to cock anything up enough that he had to personally intervene.

Gwaine was the last person to leave, locking up just after eleven and driving home. He scooped the post up from off the doormat (bills, as always, and apparently his car insurance was due), poured himself a large measure of whiskey (a little too large, if he was to be totally honest, but moderation had always seemed vastly overrated to him) and flopped down in front of the television. A good bit to drink, an hour or so of gore and swearing on TV, and then he would be able to sleep until morning.

X

Gwaine slept late on Tuesday, as he always did the days after he stayed late to lock up. It was no less uneventful a day than Monday, and Gwaine still had no idea whether or not to contact Merlin.

Wednesday, though. On Wednesday, things changed.

X

On Wednesday, Gwaine was woken at the repulsive hour of eight am by the insistent beeping of an alarm he was pretty damn sure he didn't set. After far too many attempts at hitting the off button on the clock on his bedside table, it sank in that the beeping was on his phone, shoved under his pillow.

"Fuck off," he muttered emphatically. On discovering it to be a highly ineffective way of silencing the hideous thing, he settled for punching buttons until the noise stopped, by which point he was far too awake to go back to sleep. Gwaine sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face and staring at his phone. He knew he didn't set it to wake him two hours before he wanted to be awake, and the only other person to come into contact with his phone recently was...Merlin.

Well, that was the most sadistic response to a bad date Gwaine had ever received.

Sadistic, and as far as he could work out, highly uncharacteristic for Merlin, which meant one of two things: either he had recently come down with a bout of optimism so intense it bordered on stupidity, or there was something else going on here (or both, given how hard he was praying for it to be the latter). Gwaine tapped the screen until he found the alarm options, none of which he had ever used before. There was a single alarm on the page, set to go off once, at precisely eight am that day, and named.

"Check my calendar?" Gwaine said, the question directed at himself more than anything else. He obeyed, of course, because an early morning wake-up call and a treasure hunt seemed like an excellent – if slightly odd – prelude to a second date.

_6pm  
>28 Queen Street<br>Wear dark clothing, nothing fancy.  
>Be inconspicuous.<br>M_

Well, wasn't that just peachy? Not only did Gwaine have a crush on a secretive, clothes-ruining menace, he might actually be the villain from a horror film. The only way that message could have been any more menacing would have been if Merlin had stuck the words 'come alone' at the end of it.

He climbed from his bed and headed to the shower, already trying to work out what he owned that fit the categories of dark and not fancy (which seemed to him to mean nothing he didn't want ruining). And whether or not he was capable of being inconspicuous, and why Merlin wanted him to be.

And, for that matter, how he was supposed to explain taking a second evening off work in less than a week, particularly when he couldn't even say why (because no one he told about that message would think it was a good idea for him to go ahead and meet Merlin). The best he could do, he decided, was to get all his tedious office-related paperwork out of the way in the morning, deal with the lunchtime staff himself, and instruct the evening staff to be on their very best behaviour.

It was hardly responsible, but then Gwaine had never claimed to be all that responsible. Besides, it wasn't like the world – or his business – was going to end just because he skipped a day of work.


	4. Testing

**Ttitle:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author: <strong>Peach  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Whole lot of swearing, little bit of action, and not very much in the way of answers.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Well, my series four DVDs arrived on Monday. That get me any closer to owning them?  
><strong>Notes:<strong> So a couple of crappy weeks have come my way, and along with the busy-ness and the angsting and stress and just general badness, I really didn't think this chapter was going to show up on time. But I found, on waking up on Thursday morning, that I have become a one woman snot machine (lovely, right?), and so have spent the last couple of days watching Buffy repeats, writing, and generally feeling sorry for myself, with the result that we have another chapter ready to post on time. As always, reviews of any kind are welcome, particularly those offering concrit. Until next time, Peach.

**Testing  
><strong>

Gwaine parked just around the corner from Merlin's designated meeting place, zipping his jacket up to the collar and pulling a pair of black, slightly holey gloves from his pockets. He ambled casually to stand in the shadows of the doorway to number twenty-nine to wait for Merlin to show up; he might have been foolish enough to respond to an invitation like the one he received that morning, but he wasn't going to wait out in the open for anyone to sneak up on him.

Merlin arrived at precisely five fifty-seven by Gwaine's watch, standing patiently outside the shop across the road from Gwaine, hands tucked in the pockets of the brown coat he was wearing. Gwaine succeeded in watching him for approximately thirty-nine seconds of the five minutes he told himself to wait before peeling away from the wall he leant against and crossing the road to say hello, and the grin that lit up Merlin's face as he sauntered to a stop next to him was more than enough to convince Gwaine his suspicions about attending this meeting we unfounded.

"Hi," Merlin answered, slightly too loud. "Sorry, I...I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Course I was going to come. Never had a date that sounded quite so..." he fumbles for a word, not entirely sure what he could say that Merlin wouldn't be offended by, particularly seeing as anything he said could count as a description of Merlin too. "Intriguing," he finished, giving his cockiest smile. "Take it you have something planned beyond standing about in the cold."

"Yeah," Merlin said. "It's this way." He began walking, seemingly confident that Gwaine would follow him, despite admitting uncertainty as to whether or not Gwaine was actually going to show up. Gwaine did, walking next to him, close enough for their hands to brush every other step. From the corner of his eye he caught Merlin glancing down at his hand, but he didn't move away, so Gwaine figured it was fine.

"Tell me something?" Gwaine said, after a moment of silence.

"Depends on what you want to know." Merlin smiled in a way that suggested that was how things would be between them, Gwaine asking and Merlin revealing as much or as little as he chose. It was probably something he should object to, but...well, the mysterious act was kind of hot. Gwaine wasn't really all that susceptible to people playing hard to get (most of the time, he was really rather fond of easy to get), but then with Merlin it seemed to be something more than that, something both deeper and less devious.

"Where are we going?" It wasn't the question Gwaine had been intending to ask, but he'd rather not know just yet what it was that Merlin wouldn't answer.

As he expected, Merlin shook his head. "It's a surprise. Wouldn't want to ruin it, would you? Besides," he added, grabbing, squeezing and releasing Gwaine's hand in barely a second, "we're almost there."

"Are we now?" Gwaine murmured, looking around them. They'd passed from the shop-lined street they'd met up on to one with large warehouses on either side, entirely industrial and not really the sort of place you'd expect to go on a date. "You wouldn't happen to be a well-integrated serial killer, would you?"

Merlin laughed, stopping Gwaine with a hand on his arm. "Funny you should ask," he said, then tugged Gwaine up a one-way street on their right. "It's up here."

"Why is it funny?" Gwaine asked, suddenly far less confident that Merlin's ability to smile meant he wasn't actually a vicious killer. Because, sure, Merlin didn't look all that built, but he had a good few inches on Gwaine, and with surprise on his side...Gwaine was going to die. Merlin was going to take him up that deserted, poorly lit street and murder him, and no one was ever going to find his body. He hadn't even told anyone where he was going, or who he'd be with, and he wouldn't be missed at work until the early afternoon. He was fucked. Not even the good sort of fucked, where one day in the distant, distant future he'd be able to laugh about this, because he was going to be dead. Gwaine was more fucked than a seriously, seriously fucked thing. Gwaine was...

Overreacting. Just a little bit.

"Laser Tag," Merlin said, coming to a halt in front of the door to a well-signed building.

"Laser Tag?" Well, at least he wasn't _literally_ going to die, and he wasn't sure why he had expected something normal and datelike to occur on this date, given the way he was asked out for it.

Merlin smiled, and Gwaine sort of regretted his slightly sceptical tone. "We're only young once," he said, offering his hand to Gwaine. "We might as well make the most of it." When Gwaine hesitated a moment longer, he rolled his eyes and continued. "You'll have fun, I promise."

Gwaine grinned back at him, laced their fingers together, and let Merlin lead him inside.

X

"You," Gwaine said as they left the warehouse, voice pitched low enough that the people walking behind them couldn't hear, "are a filthy cheat."

Merlin nodded, grinning broadly. "Don't blame me," he smirked. "It's not my fault you're so easy to distract."

"Your tongue was in my mouth. How isn't that your fault?"

Merlin paused, letting Gwaine draw level with him and taking his hand. "I told you it'd be fun; I'd hate you to think I was a liar. You didn't lose by that much, anyway."

It was fun, yes, and Gwaine hadn't been doing too badly. He might even have been winning the last match they played, he thought, up until the point where he rounded a corner and found Merlin waiting for him. He wouldn't have had a problem shooting him (hell, he'd already done so more than once), but Merlin grabbed him too quickly, looping a hand through the shoulder of his vest and pulling him in close enough to press his mouth to Gwaine's. To say Gwaine wasn't expecting it would be something of an understatement, given that their first date had ended in a single, slightly hesitant and very quick kiss, but he recovered far faster than the first time, allowing Merlin to push him backwards into the corner.

He'd been enjoying it, too, the movement of Merlin's lips against his, opening his mouth with almost embarrassing eagerness when Merlin's tongue licked at the corner of his mouth. He hadn't even been holding his gun (wasn't sure when he'd let go of it, either), when Merlin had spun them around so that Gwaine's back was to the person sneaking up on them, too caught up in the feeling of Merlin's thigh pressed between his and the need to get even closer, impossible with the ridiculous vests they were wearing.

Needless to say, getting shot in the back had just been the start of how horribly Gwaine had lost that match.

"Oh, I did," Gwaine murmured, but figured that, since he didn't actually mind (and when did he become so freaking docile, anyway?), continued argument seemed childish. "So, do you have anything else planned?"

"I was going to buy you a drink," Merlin said, "but..." he trailed off, though Gwaine go his point; despite the freezing temperature of the warehouse, they were both more than a little sweaty and smelled slightly ripe.

The walked in silence for a moment before Gwaine, on a slightly rash impulse, blurted out, "you could come back to mine?" At Merlin's slightly startled indrawn breath, he continued. "I don't mean for...unless you want to, in which case..." and, given the intensity with which Merlin had kissed him, Gwaine was pretty sure he wanted to. Either that, or he just really wanted to win. "I could cook us something, if you'd like?"

Merlin assessed him with a look, and Gwaine felt grasshoppers in his stomach. He was close to apologising when Merlin smiled and said, "that'd be nice, thanks. I have a change of clothes in my car, if you're willing to let me use your shower?" It was Gwaine's turn to be surprised, something Merlin clearly noted, since he demonstrated the same ability to rapidly backtrack that Gwaine just had. "I wasn't assuming anything, don't worry. You can't believe it's only strangers I spill things on."

Worry hadn't really been Gwaine's first emotion, but he didn't feel the need to tell Merlin that. "My car's this way. I'll drive you to where yours is, and you can follow me home?"

X

Merlin's car was something of a rust-bucket, a decade and a half old, the paint green where it wasn't missing, but it ran fine (if, Merlin said, a little loudly) and Merlin kept up with Gwaine well (he tested him, a little bit, and Merlin showed a reasonable level of willingness to break the speed limit). Gwaine parked his car on the drive, Merlin leaving his on the street, then let Merlin into the house and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom before going back outside to move his car into the garage.

By the time he had returned to the kitchen and finished investigating his cupboards for something edible (he should really have thought before he invited Merlin back with the offer of food), Merlin was out of the shower and, much to Gwaine's disappointment, fully dressed, scrubbing at his hair with a towel.

"So," he said, standing behind Gwaine as he stared at the contents of the fridge. "What are you feeding me?"

"It's looking like pasta of some sort, if that's okay?" Gwaine turned to look at him, grinning in the hope that he could charm Merlin into forgiving his lack of forethought. "Feel free to look around. TV's that way, and there are books and films lying around. More of the former than the latter, but see what you can find."

He stretched up to kiss Merlin quickly (his hesitance from earlier in the evening effectively overridden by Merlin's actions while they were out), running a hand down his arm in an attempt to find skin (long sleeves, again, and his house couldn't be that cold, could it, though that shade of blue did look excellent with Merlin's eyes, almost a perfect match, and Gwaine was probably staring just a little too intently). Merlin was just beginning to respond when Gwaine stepped back, very nearly ending up in the fridge but not quite, circling around Merlin and making his way to his bedroom (it was hardly proper for his guest to be clean whilst he smelled so hideous). "Try not to break anything," he called back over his shoulder.

X

Gwaine existed his bathroom with only a towel around his waist. Not something he'd usually do with someone else in the house (well, maybe, but usually only after he'd shagged them), but seeing as it was his en-suite bathroom and Merlin was downstairs, he figured he could get away with it, dressing without Merlin knowing he'd been wandering about mostly naked.

At least, he thought Merlin was downstairs. As it turned out, he'd apparently taken Gwaine's invitation to look around to mean look around everywhere; probably Gwaine's fault for not being specific, but who wandered into a blatantly occupied room in which a shower was audibly running? The sound of a throat being cleared from the doorway as Gwaine rummaged through his dresser for a tee-shirt surprised him just a little.

He span, hand automatically going to check his towel was secure. "Merlin?" he asked, trying not to sound too alarmed. "Something I can help you with?"

Merlin swallowed and stepped into the room. "Oh, I would say so," he murmured, crossing to Gwaine with some haste.

It really wasn't what Gwaine expected, _again_, and he wondered vaguely – very vaguely, given that Merlin had reached him and was leaning in close – how many times Merlin was going to surprise assault him in one day. Not that he was complaining too much as Merlin backed him towards his bed, fingers dancing at the small of his back but not quite pushing at the edge of the towel because, God, could Merlin kiss.

Merlin could _kiss_, and Gwaine really didn't have a problem with letting this go further, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of Merlin's jeans and tugging him in, all warmth and friction and yeah, not a problem at all. He didn't even object to letting Merlin call the shots, not if he was as good at everything that followed as he was at that, except...he heard Leon, and his "you must really like this guy," and – aside from that fact that thinking of a friend just then was really not what he wanted – no.

Because Gwaine did like Merlin, a ridiculous amount given how little he knew he know of him, and rushing into things was not a good idea. Merlin showed no signs of being so interested in him on their first date, but less than a week later and with no conversation in the meantime, Merlin was...no. It was too soon, Merlin was too eager for this to be real, and Gwaine wanted this to be more than a couple of dates and a one-off night of fun.

He let his hands fall from the button of Merlin's jeans and pulled away reluctantly, incredibly reluctantly, but pulled away nonetheless. "Mmm," he muttered (moaned, in all probability, but he preferred to save such descriptions for when there was a little more than smooching going on), voice sounding louder than he'd have liked it to. "It's not that I'm not _really_ enjoying this, but..."

Merlin nodded, taking a small step back. "Yeah," he said, breathing heavy. "Yeah, sorry."

"No," Gwaine replied, with a final brush of lips before he walked back to his drawers. "No, it's good, just sudden." He watched Merlin for a moment, trying to work out if he'd managed to ruin things completely.

Merlin was flushed, jeans unbuttoned and shirt darkened from pressing against Gwaine's still damp chest, rucked up a little to show a lean, pale stomach and a trail of dark hair leading under his waistband, but his expression was some combination of disappointed and impressed. Gwaine added that to the list of moments Merlin hadn't reacted how he'd expected him to, and apparently an adequate amount of blood had succeeded in reaching his brain because it clicked, finally. The times he felt like he was being tested their first date, Merlin's need to win that evening, denying the intention to sleep with Gwaine only to make a bloody good go at it when they got back to his...they felt like tests because that's exactly what they were.

Gwaine should be upset, probably. In reality, he only fell further.

"Give me a minute or two to get dressed," he said, resuming his hunt for a shirt to wear, "and I'll sort some food, okay?"

"I'll see you downstairs," Merlin agreed.

Gwaine didn't relax until the click of his door closing muffled the soft pad of Merlin's footsteps, confirming that he was actually alone. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and rolled his eyes, almost regretting going for that coffee weeks ago.

Almost.

X

Merlin was sat on the sofa in Gwaine's living room, feet curled up under him, looking utterly innocent and completely respectable, not at all like someone who would sneak into an unsuspecting man's bedroom and get all hot and heavy with him entirely out of the blue. Gwaine lurked in the doorway for a moment, watching the man who essentially had him wrapped around his little finger, then cleared his throat.

"I knew you were there," Merlin said, not turning, and Gwaine didn't know whether to believe him or not. He didn't jump, certainly, or not so that Gwaine saw, but...Gwaine was inclined to doubt him, though not enough to say it.

"Of course you did. Food's done, do you want to eat here or at the table?"

"Here's good." Merlin actually turned to look at him then, smiling broadly. "I haven't been allowed to eat on a sofa since I last went home. Arthur is...particular about food in the living room."

"Arthur?" So the housemate had a name, then. "Super-rich bloke who owns your house, right?" Gwaine turned to make his way back to the kitchen, Merlin rising to follow him. "Glasses are in the top left cupboard, and...well, there isn't a lot in the fridge, but help yourself to whatever."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Gwaine paused in loading pasta and sauce onto two plates, glancing across at the contents of the fridge. There really wasn't much in there, just fruit juice and a few beers, and whilst he'd love to have one of them, he wasn't going to. "Whatever you're having is fine. I'll take these through, follow when you're ready."

He walked through the archway between his kitchen and living room and placed their plates on the coffee table, then searched for a pair of coasters for the drinks, finding one on the bookcase, a second half-hidden under the sofa. He had just barely placed them on the table when Merlin joined him, a glass of orange in one hand, an open bottle of beer in the other.

"What's this?" Gwaine asked, sitting next to Merlin. At a distance, not quite within groping range, because while his resolve was there, it wasn't all that strong.

"Empties in the recycling in the hall, bottle opener on the side." Merlin shrugged, passing the bottle to him. "And then there was the long, lingering look at the fridge. If you want to drink, there's no need to hold back on my account."

The thing was, Gwaine would have done, normally. Sure, he liked a drink now and again, but liking was all it was; he didn't _need_ it, and if the person he was out with (or in with, in this case) wasn't drinking, he usually wouldn't either. But if Merlin was okay enough with it to bring him a beer, he could probably go along with it. "You sure?" he asked, waiting for Merlin to agree before clinking his bottle against Merlin's glass. "Cheers, then."

"Cheers," Merlin echoed, grinning.

X

"That," Merlin announced, stacking his plate on top of Gwaine's on the table, "was excellent."

"Hmm." Gwaine answered, a little bit proud. "It wasn't bad, I suppose. If you really want excellent, though, you want to stop in at the restaurant sometime. Our chef is quite possibly the best cook I've ever met." He stretched his legs out under the table and turned to observe Merlin.

Merlin yawned, glanced at his watch, and curled his feet up under him. "I need to go," he said, shuffling slightly closer to the middle of the sofa, showing no signs of actually intending to do so.

"Right." Gwaine reached for the TV remote, putting it on the seat between them. "Or you could stay here. I have a spare room." Best make that clear right away, he thought, seeing as he actually wanted a third date, and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to say no if Merlin repeated his earlier advances.

Merlin picked up the remote and turned the television on, flicking through the channels and carefully not looking at Gwaine. "You're pretty determined not to jump into anyway, aren't you?"

"Trust me," Gwaine said, reaching out a hand and gently turning Merlin to face him. "It isn't that I don't like you. It really isn't. I'd just like to know you'll still be here in the morning before things go any further."

"And how do you know I'll be here tomorrow, anyway?" Merlin asked, licking his lips , and Gwaine realised he'd moved himself back into arms' reach.

Still, two could play at that game; Gwaine leaned in closer, closer, letting his eyes flick down to Merlin's lips, grinning internally as Merlin's tongue flicked out again, this time unintentionally. "How do I know?" he breathed, barely centimetres from kissing (and he wanted to; God, did he want to). "Easy. Pancakes."

He pulled back, laughing at Merlin's confused face. He had this one. Merlin might have beaten him earlier in both their actual games and whatever the hell this game between them was, but this one at least was his.

"Pancakes?" Merlin echoed faintly, then shook his head, blinking until his eyes cleared. "Sorry, what?"

"As you will find tomorrow morning, I make the best pancakes you will ever eat." Gwaine stood, making his way around the sofa. "You stay here, find something to watch, while I go make up the spare bed."

"I start work at half eight," Merlin called after him, like it was supposed to be deal-breaker.

"I'll get up early then."

"Why?" Merlin asked and Gwaine paused, turning back to look at him. "Why go to all this effort? You already know that you can have me."

And there it was again, the insecurity that Gwaine thought he'd seen flashes of over the evening but never been entirely sure about. He didn't yet know Merlin well enough to tell whether it was uncharacteristic or if he was just really good at hiding it most of the time, but he intended to. "I like you, Merlin. Wanting to sleep with you is only a part of that."

Merlin didn't look at him, just continued changing channels, and his next words were cool – distant, almost – and so quiet Gwaine almost didn't hear then. "You don't know me, Gwaine. You only met me a couple of weeks ago."

"I want to, though. And isn't that kind of the point of dating?" With that, Gwaine left, wondering where his spare pillows lived, because it was so much easier than trying to figure out what Merlin was thinking.

X

_It was for a good cause_, Gwaine told himself as he dragged himself from his bed at seven. It was a good cause, proving to Merlin that he was worth more than whatever games he was playing, that he deserved to know whatever secrets Merlin was keeping. It was also unpleasantly early.

He pulled on a fairly scruffy tee-shirt – cooking bare-chested was never particularly wise – and made his way downstairs, deciding to leave waking Merlin until there was food on the table; pancakes, bacon, eggs and on rummaging in the freezer he discovered hash browns as well. Not his usual breakfast fare, but he promised Merlin pancakes and pancakes were what he was getting. The suspicious part of his mind wanted him to check on Merlin then, be sure he was still in the house before he started cooking, but he wouldn't. Too proud, perhaps, but Gwaine liked to call it confidence instead.

It wasn't necessary, anyway; by the time the bacon was sizzling in the pan, there was movement audible upstairs, and Merlin appeared fully dressed in the kitchen just as Gwaine dished up the food.

"Smells good," he said, picking up one of the mugs of coffee Gwaine had left on the table.

"Morning," Gwaine answered, vaguely aware that he should probably find this awkward rather than just being glad Merlin hadn't vanished overnight. "Sleep well?"

"Like a log, thanks. This mine?" He pulled out a stool and sat, taking one of the plates in the middle of the table without waiting for an answer.

Gwaine took the other and the stool opposite, grinning. "So I was thinking the cinema," he said, carefully stacking a piece of bacon between two chunks of pancake on his fork, then dragging it all through the large pool of syrup on his plate.

"The cinema?" Merlin wrinkled his nose, shaking his head as Gwaine offered him the syrup bottle.

"Yeah, this whole surprise thing is fun and all, but if I miss any more work I'll have to fire myself."

"And so you're asking to take me to the cinema?" Merlin waited for him to nod before continuing. "Yeah, why- hang on a minute." He dug around in his jeans pocket for a second, producing phone that was flashing and buzzing faintly, then glanced at the display. "_Shit_," he muttered, really quite emphatically. "Shit, I need to get this."

"Sure," Gwaine began, but Merlin had already spun from his seat and walked from the room, holding the phone to his ear, not quite speaking quietly enough for his side of the conversation to be inaudible.

"Hi, Arthur...yeah, I know, sorry...I was going to call, I just...no, I'm at Will's, I fell asleep watching a film...no, it's...no..." He paused for quite a long moment, sighing loudly, and Gwaine wondered what exactly Arthur was saying. And, for that matter, what sort of bloke phoned before eight in the morning just because his housemate didn't come home. "No, Arthur, it's...yes, I've taken them, you know I keep spares here...no, I...no...would you please let me finish a sentence before you start shouting at me? Thank you. I'm fine, yes. I'm not a child." He laughed, an undercurrent of tension to it. "Yes. I'll see you this evening, yes...yeah, sorry...yes...look, I need to go, Arthur...yeah. Bye."

There was a soft string of expletives – impressively varied, even by Gwaine's standards – then Merlin stuck his head around the doorjamb. "Sorry, I just need to make another call."

Gwaine frowned, fairly sure objecting wasn't the way to go, deeply confused. Last he knew, he wasn't called Will, although at least that lie made sense if Merlin hadn't told anyone he was seeing something (did two dates even count as seeing someone, or was that just wishful thinking?). About the stuff that came after that, Gwaine didn't have a clue.

Merlin retreated back into the living room and picked up with the swearing again. "Come on, answer the fucking phone, you bastard. This is import- yeah, hi Will. It's...yes, I know what time it is...you haven't left yet, what are you whining about? Look, if Arthur asks, I stayed at yours last night...please, mate, I'll explain later."

There was another long pause, during which Gwaine wondered if he was going to get an explanation as well, or if lies and secrecy were just going to be something he had to get used to, and it so wasn't healthy to be willing to put up with stuff like that after only knowing a bloke a couple of weeks. That Merlin was not only offering an alibi to his housemate but ringing someone else to ask them to stick to it did not bode well, it really didn't, and the little voice in the back of Gwaine's mind was telling him to back out now, before it was too late. Gwaine, being the idiot he was, ignored it.

"Thanks, Will," Merlin picked back up again. "I owe you one...thank you...look, Will, there's...there isn't always a catch, that isn't fair...yeah, I do, in your bathroom cupboard, there's a box of...yeah, those ones, if you could bring them to work with you..." And that was concerning, both the slightly desperate quality of Merlin's voice and the actual words he was saying. "I really do owe you...yeah, I had fun...thanks. Later."

Gwaine made a vague effort to look occupied with his breakfast as Merlin came back into the kitchen, shoving his phone in his pocket, but he had a sneaky suspicion he didn't do too well. "Is everything okay?" he asked, surprised by how evident his concern was.

"That? Yeah, that was nothing." Merlin sat again, digging into the remains of his breakfast enthusiastically. "You're right, these are good."

Gwaine wanted to argue, he really did, to get some understanding of whatever the hell was going on in Merlin's head. He wanted to argue, but he didn't. He meant what he said, about wanting to get to know Merlin, but if he pushed too soon, Gwaine was pretty sure he'd never hear from Merlin again. "Secret family recipe," he said, letting the subject change slide and feeling less than strong for doing so.

"Oh?"

"Nah, not really. Just thought I'd try bring a little credulity to my claim that they're the best ever." Merlin smiled at him, settling Gwaine's qualms about going along with this. He was an adult, he could deal with a few secrets, for now. "I believe you were agreeing to see a film with me, before that little interruption."

"Yes," Merlin agreed. "Yes, I suppose I was. It'll have to wait to sort it out, though. I have work."

Gwaine looked from his mostly empty plate to Merlin's clean one, wondering just how someone so skinny managed to put away so much food so quickly. Seeing as he had, though, Gwaine didn't really have any reason to argue for Merlin to stay. "Can we arrange it slightly more conventionally this time, please?"

"I'll call you," Merlin grinned, stealing a slice of bacon from Gwaine's plate as he stood. "And you should stop by the shop some time, since our coffee rivals your breakfasts. A kiss before I go?"

Now that, Gwaine was more than happy to grant, walking around the table to stand next to Merlin, expecting...well, he wasn't quite sure what he expected, or even if he expected anything. It was probably best not to, where Merlin was concerned. Either way, this kiss was sweet, calm, not like the hungry ones from yesterday or the reticent one from their first date. The second one by the front door was equally calm, and the third, and..."You need to go," Gwaine said, loosening his hold on the back of Merlin's neck and stepping away.

"I do," Merlin agreed. "I'll see you soon. And, you know, thanks. For not asking." He pulled his rucksack up onto his shoulder and opened the door, heading out towards his car.

"I will one day," Gwaine told his back. "One day, I'll ask, and I'll expect an answer."

"One day," Merlin said, glancing over his shoulder as he climbed into the driver's seat of his car. "One day, I might actually give you one."


	5. Minor Disasters and Fake Blood

**Title:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> EachPeachPearPlum  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T, but a pretty strong one.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, not quite adult situations (my flatmate decided to introduce me to Topless Robot's FFF, for which I hate her more than I did the two weeks she got me to be vegan, so whilst M-rated things will probably be showing up they won't be doing so until the brain bleach kicks in. Google it, read some of them, and you will understand why), I imagine there's a typo or two in here that I've missed, and Gwaine's thoughts are growing increasingly incoherent, for which I apologise profusely.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own coffee. Not in its entirety, but I certainly have some hidden away in a cupboard. I don't own any of the characters, but those I do not have hidden in cupboards (which really is a pity, isn't it?).  
><strong>Notes:<strong> 1) Thanks to baje for reviewing anonymously, and TangerineTea to whom I couldn't reply. 2) As anyone who is reading _Hunger_ knows, all schedules are currently abandonned. Updates aren't going to stop happening, but they will be happening randomly and somewhat sporadically. 3) Far more importantly, I'm a little concerned people are not taking my warning in the first chapter seriously. This is not all sweetness and light and fluff. Nor is it mildly angsty in the same way that _Hunger_ is. We're talking death and darkness and the very depths of despair. Not yet, of course, but at some point everything is going to go to hell in a handbasket. That said, this chapter _is_ largely all sweetness and light and fluff. Pretty please offer me your opinions of it? Love, Peach.

**Chapter Five  
><strong>

**Minor Disasters and Fake Blood**

Gwaine arrived at work to find chaos. Not of the complete and utter, world ending variety, but things were definitely less than peachy.

Leon was sulking in the kitchen as only a man completely aware of his own necessity was able to, making puff-pastry something or others, swearing sporadically under his breathing and telling anyone who would listen that he was going to quit if ever he had to deal with an evening like the one before again. The women who took care of the cleaning were stood at opposite sides of the restaurant, the two factions glaring intently at one another, though God alone knew why. And two of the waitresses who had the misfortune to arrive early for the lunch shift were crying, probably just from the absurd levels of tension that filled the place.

And his day had started out so well, too.

X

Dealing with Leon was obviously the most pressing concern, given that they opened in fifteen minutes and the majority of customers probably wouldn't be too impressed at being told the only thing on the menu that lunch was puff pastry whatnots. In fixing that problem, Gwaine also got the whole story of what he missed while he was getting shot at and almost shagging Merlin.

Some combination of teenage melodrama and trashy reality TV-show seemed to have taken over his restaurant over the last few days as he had been absorbed – unnecessarily, as it turned out – in misery, culminating in a fight during his absence. An actual fight between two of his waitresses, in the middle of his restaurant at dinner time, complete with hair-pulling, food-flinging, and incomprehensible shrieking, all because they were apparently dumb enough to miss the fact that Leon's chief sous-chefs was pledging undying love for (which, Gwaine gathered, was a phrase better interpreted as _screwing_) the both of them. Not that Gwaine had known about it either, or Leon or any of the rest of his staff (the boy was an impressively devious little rat), but he was fairly convinced that he wouldn't be stupid enough not to notice that the person he was with was also shagging someone else.

And what with Gwaine's not being there, Leon had had to be the one to sort it out, abandoning the sanctity of his kitchen to his minions (who, fortunately, managed not to cock matters up further) in order to force the wrestling girls away from each other and send them home. The rest of the shift was finished two waitresses and a sous-chef down, and three sets of customers got their meals on the house thanks to either delays on receiving their food or ending up with someone else's landing on top of them.

As a whole, it effectively put an end to Gwaine's wondering why he didn't usually date.

Still, numerous apologies and offers of evenings off in the near future (just not on Fridays or Saturdays; they were far too busy to manage without him then) were enough to mollify Leon as much as was necessary to get him to cook something actually servable. The cleaners were equally easy to deal with, if only by threatening to fire anyone who refused to do their jobs (not that Gwaine would have done, but it worked), while the sobbing girls were given tissues and cups of tea. Best not to upset them any further, Gwaine decided, seeing as he was going to be two waitresses down until he managed to replace the others.

Then came the ugly business of firing the scrapping waitresses. Or, rather, phoning and demanding they appeared in his office that afternoon so that he could fire them in person. If it were up to him, he'd have sacked the guy involved as well, but seeing as Leon swore no one in the kitchen was able to take his place and he hadn't actually done anything wrong (being a total douche didn't count), he was staying. Under strict instructions never to touch any of Gwaine's employees again, _ever_, but it was so much less than he deserved. By the time he was done with drafting an advert for the new job openings, lunch was over and Gwaine really, really wanted a drink.

He had to settle for a coffee, though, and if that meant seeing Merlin again...well, that was just a bonus.

X

"Two black coffees to go. And one of those muffins, please." Grunge-Guy – correction, Will, because Gwaine should really think of him by name if he was going to go out with Merlin again – looked up from his crossword to see which ones Gwaine was pointing at (chocolate, and lots of it), then turned to the coffee machine. "Is Merlin about?" Gwaine added, when a glance around showed a decent smattering of customers but no dark-haired enigma.

Will looked over his shoulder at him for a second, and then stopped making the drinks in order to lean against the counter and speak to him. "Gwaine, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Look," Will said, very nearly grimacing. "God, this is awkward." He paused, huffed, then carried on. "Look, mate, I'm sure you and Merlin had a real headboard-banging good time last night, but you're barking up the wrong tree. You'd have better luck getting into bed with the Pope than landing a second date with Merlin."

Now, Gwaine thought, that _was _interesting. Not the part about Merlin being a one night stand kind of guy, he'd already worked that out (or at least, he'd certainly hoped that was the case, and it wasn't just him Merlin was so keen on sleeping with and then leaving), but that Will only knew about their second date. Because Merlin had only needed an alibi for this one? Although it had sounded from their phone call that Will had already known where Merlin had been, or at least knew that he'd been on a date. Either way, whilst Gwaine could have made a whole range of inappropriate conversations about how the Pope must have been quite a lot easier than people thought, it was probably safer not to. "Can you just tell him I'm here, please?"

"I'd really rather not, thanks," Will refused, in a tone that left very little room for argument. "I'm sure you're a really swell bloke and all, but Merlin tends to fuck and run. It's better that you don't try change that."

"You know what? Fine. Just tell him I said hello. Now, can I get my coffees, please?" It was far too much effort to explain that Merlin hadn't run out on him (and the fact that they hadn't fucked was no one's business but theirs). Particularly seeing as there was probably a reason Merlin had chosen not to tell everything to Will, despite saying that he would. Best to just leave it, for now, because Merlin had said he was going to call, and maybe Gwaine didn't trust him to stick around if they slept together, but he did trust him to keep his word about that, if only because he hadn't got what he wanted yet.

The muffin appeared on the counter before him fairly rapidly, the drinks not a whole lot later. "It really is nothing personal," Will said, putting Gwaine's money in the till. "And I'm sorry, for what that's worth. You aren't the first person to come in here the morning after he skipped out on them, and you probably won't be the last."

It was almost certainly too soon for Gwaine to walk out of the shop thinking that he would be, but seeing as he had just as little control over his own thoughts as he did over Merlin's actions, he probably couldn't be blamed for it.

X

"Here," Gwaine said, putting the brown paper bag containing the muffin and a cup of coffee on the stainless steel trolley in the middle of the kitchen.

"What are these for?" Leon asked, looking up from the sheets of paper before him.

Gwaine shrugged, cupping his own coffee in both hands in an attempt to warm them. "An apology. Should have been here to take care of things yesterday."

"Yes, you should have been." Leon's voice was stern, but there was a smile on his face as he opened the bag and unwrapped the muffin. "I take it you had a good time while you were off shirking your responsibilities?"

"Well, seeing as you're asking," Gwaine said, leaning carefully against the trolley (he'd done so less than cautiously once, only to discover that the brakes weren't on, and hadn't that been embarrassing). "It was...odd. Not bad-odd, but...definitely not normal."

Leon frowned. "You want to talk about it?"

Gwaine thought about it for a moment; an outside perspective might have been helpful, but he had no idea where or how to begin describing it, or even if he wanted to. "No, I don't think so. He's just a bit different. Secretive." He shook his head, took a large gulp of coffee and sighed a sigh of the mostly contented and recently caffeinated (God, that was good stuff). "I'm sure it's nothing too bad," he lied; it wasn't that he thought Merlin was keeping something truly awful from him, but he really didn't have any idea what it was. "What is it that you're working on?"

"This?" Leon picked up the papers and offered them to him. "New specials I was going to run by you, the next time you bothered to show up at work."

"I said I was sorry about that," Gwaine argued. "Unless you happen to have a time machine hidden away somewhere, I can't really change it. And even then, I probably wouldn't." He tried not to grin, he really did, because Leon was clearly still in a snit about him taking the evening off, and it wasn't like his date with Merlin had resolved anything beyond the fact that Merlin clearly did like him somewhat more than Gwaine had thought he did.

"Well, whatever else might have happened yesterday, at least you aren't sulking, anymore." And that, Gwaine knew, was probably the closest thing he'd get to being told he was forgiven, but seeing as he was the one in charge here, he figured he didn't need forgiveness all that much anyway. "I take it that you have a third date planned, then. Or perhaps that you just managed to get a little more than a kiss out of this one."

"Both," Gwaine said, perhaps a bit too smugly. "We're going to the cinema. A nice, normal date." He picked up the papers, although without actually having the food that went with the names there wasn't a whole lot he could say, particularly seeing as Leon's hand-writing was largely illegible. "What does that word say?"

"That one?" Leon stood, leaning over Gwaine's shoulder to see what he was pointing at. "Mango."

"And those two?"

"Parmesan. And beef."

Okay, ew. That one Gwaine didn't need to try.

X

Gwaine kicked the door to his house closed behind him and ran upstairs pretty quickly, digging a white dress shirt out of his wardrobe. None of his temporary waiters or waitresses were able to work that evening on such short notice, so he was covering. So not part of his job description, but he owned the place, had the experience – years old though it was – and it wasn't like there were all that many alternatives.

He was most of the way back downstairs when his phone buzzed, and while he wasn't exactly flush for time, he figured he'd better get it seeing as he didn't recognise the number. "Hello?" he said, holding the phone to his ear and trying to fasten the final button on his shirt one-handed.

"Hey," Merlin's voice answered. "It's, um, hey."

"Merlin," he murmured, sitting abruptly on the step he was at. "Not that I particularly object to hearing from you, but I don't give this number to people." He didn't object at all, really, and even while he'd been sure Will was wrong that morning, there had been a little part of his mind that wondered. There were probably plenty of people who thought they were an exception to Merlin's rule, his brain had spent the afternoon of firings and phone calls telling him, and Gwaine had started to think he was no less deluded than the rest of them.

"You do give your phone to people, though. It's fairly easy to get a number that way." Merlin laughed, sort of. "Will only just told me you were here, otherwise I'd have called sooner. And he apologises for being a twat."

Faintly, Gwaine heard a second voice in the background, slightly tinny but still identifiable as Will. "Hey, that's not fair. How was I supposed to know you were actually dating him?"

Well, there was a whole world of things in that sentence that Gwaine just wasn't ready to address yet, but apparently Merlin had decided to tell at least Will that Gwaine wasn't just another name in what was presumably a fairly long list. "It's fine. I'd just planned on filling you in on the minor disaster that hit my restaurant while we were out. And I really needed a coffee."

"I have time now," Merlin offered.

"Unfortunately, I don't," Gwaine sighed, standing and making his way down the rest of the stairs. "I can give you the basics, though. Total bitchfight in the restaurant yesterday, so I'm two waitresses down and all my stand-ins are busy. So I'm finding myself covering, and I have to be there in" – he glanced at his watch – "bollocks, less than ten minutes. Can you call me sometime tomorrow?" He had Merlin's number, now, or at least the number that Merlin was calling him from, but...yeah, maybe Gwaine still wasn't all that sure of him.

"Yeah, sure," Merlin agreed. "Good luck."

With that, the line went dead, not even giving Gwaine a chance to say goodbye. He frowned at his phone for a moment, then shoved it back in his pocket and picked up his car keys. He had work to do, which was a little bit more important than musing on Merlin's terrible telephone manners.

X

For the third morning in a row, Gwaine woke so much earlier than he wanted to. For the third morning in a row, it was Merlin's fault. For the third morning in a row, he found himself not caring all that much.

It was becoming something of a habit, and not a good one.

"Guh," he said into his phone not a whole lot before half eight, rather impressed by his articulacy.

"And a good morning to you too," Merlin replied, sounding far too chipper. "Do you always sleep this late, because I can see that being something of a problem."

"Not on Mondays," Gwaine said, then amended it. "Not on some Mondays." They weren't open on Sunday or Tuesday evenings, so he usually wasn't up quite so late, but he didn't particularly relish being away before ten any day. "Yeah," he added, after a second, "I'm not exactly a morning person." He almost stuck the word _deal-breaker_ as a question at the end of that sentence, but thought better of it; just another thing he wasn't ready to know.

"How did it go?" Merlin asked, and Gwaine was perfectly happy to go with the subject change.

"Well, I didn't break anything, or assault customers with hot drinks, so I've got you beat anyway." Gwaine laughed, sitting up and leaning against his headboard, then sobered a little. "No, I'd forgotten how hard that was. How the hell you manage it every day, I've no idea."

"It pays well enough," Merlin answered, tone slightly self-deprecating, "even when you take the odd mishap out of my pay. And making a few coffees is probably a whole lot easier than working in a restaurant. Plus, there's the fact that I'm not exactly qualified for anything else."

"A degree in physics doesn't qualify you for anything?" Gwaine asked, falling back on one of the few pieces of personal information that Merlin had actually given him.

There was a pause, long and uncomfortable, that Gwaine wasn't entirely sure how to disperse beyond apologising, and he didn't know what he was meant to be sorry for; Merlin had told him about studying physics, after all. "It does," Merlin said eventually, "But only if you finish it. I didn't graduate."

The moment that followed this was equally tense, as Gwaine fought against the impulse to ask why. He won, but only because he knew it wouldn't earn him anything beyond a stony silence. "I take it you phoned for reasons other than waking me up?"

"Yeah." Merlin sounded relieved, while Gwaine tried to work out why he was so willing to let things slide with Merlin when with anyone else he'd be seriously close to offering an ultimatum; _answer my questions or I'll walk_. "You said something about taking me to the cinema, I believe?"

That wasn't quite how Gwaine had phrased it – he was fairly sure he'd said 'go with me' rather than 'I'll take you' – but then the difference was pretty minimal. "I did, didn't I? I suppose you have a day in mind."

"Monday morning? If you're sure I won't be stealing you away from your beauty sleep, that is."

"I'll live without it," Gwaine told him, ignoring the oddity of a date at the cinema in the morning; his work didn't allow for a whole lot of alternatives.

Damn it, this was definitely going to be a habit.

X

They went to the cinema at half nine in the morning, and saw some generic and really rather terrible horror film (_normal_, Gwaine decided, was relative, more than a little improbable given that this was Merlin, and deeply overrated). Merlin kicked his shoes off and sat through the almost two hour monstrosity with his feet curled up under him and the fingers of his right hand entwined with those on Gwaine's left, alternating between crunching his way through a large tub of sweet popcorn (Gwaine preferred his popcorn salted, and not before midday, but he had some of it), slurping at a ridiculously large slush, and laughing at both the special effects and the dialogue.

Gwaine didn't understand, but then he didn't understand all that much of what Merlin did. He certainly seemed to enjoy the film – or mocking it, at least – and Gwaine was reasonably content with that.

Merlin didn't kiss him until they were in his car, the inside of his mouth icy cool and sweet, his tongue the same unnatural red as the fake blood so liberally splattered through the film they'd just seen. Gwaine was way more than content with that, continuing until Merlin's mouth regained a normal level of warmth, one hand at the back of his neck, the other playing with the hem of his shirt, until his lungs were aching with the need to breathe and the sugary flavour of the syrup in Merlin's slush was replaced by the taste of Merlin. And when he finally wrenched himself away, it was only for a second or two before Merlin followed him and the whole kissing until the need to breathe became painful thing began all over again, and even then Merlin kept doing this thing with his tongue that made Gwaine glad they were sitting down because the embarrassment of his knees giving in on top of that noise he was making (most people would describe it as keening, but most people would be wrong) would probably have killed him.

Gwaine wasn't entirely sure how he managed to pull away and stay away long enough for Merlin to drive him to his work in his hideously rusted scrapheap car, but he did, locking his hands onto opposite wrists to stop himself from reaching out to Merlin and causing some terrible car accident. Touching the driver in an inappropriate way was wrong, he told himself, and deeply unsafe, as was distracting the driver by touching himself.

Of course, when they got to his work that would be a whole other matter, and he'd always kind of wanted to screw someone on his rather fine antique desk. He could already picture how Merlin would look underneath him, all pale skin and gasping breaths as Gwaine took him apart from the inside out. Except that wasn't going to happen – yet – because he'd taken sex firmly off the table and...oh, under his desk wasn't exactly on the table, was it?

How the hell, he wondered, was Merlin able to drive properly when all Gwaine could think about was Merlin and how much he wanted to be learning every single inch of his skin? Then Merlin let out a shaky breath, both hands clutching the steering wheel like it was a lifeline, and Gwaine realised that whilst they were driving at almost forty the car was still in second gear, and sounding not at all happy about it. Maybe Merlin was just as flustered as Gwaine, which meant trying to drive probably wasn't the best thing for him to be doing, but he'd managed thus far and stopping was hardly going to be conducive to them becoming any more able to concentrate on things other than each other.

"So do you want to hear about the fight at my work last week?" Gwaine blurted out, the first thing to cross his mind that wasn't a suggestion that they both skip work that day and go back to his.

Merlin glanced at him for less than a second, but it was long enough to convey that there were so many other things he'd rather be doing with Gwaine than listening to him talk (there was that stomach-churning, spine-tingling lust again, and Gwaine tried to work out how Merlin could be stealing his oxygen without even touching him). "Yeah," Merlin agreed, returning his eyes to the road. "Please."

Gwaine told the story in as much detail as he could manage, given that he wasn't actually there at the time, in the hope that it would succeed in distracting him from all the things he wanted to be doing but shouldn't right then. It worked at least a little, enough so that by the time he was done calling the guy involved in the matter a filthy scumbag, only every fifth thought involved seeing Merlin way less clothed than he currently was.

"A little harsh, don't you think?" Merlin asked, finally changing the car into third; it wasn't just Gwaine's brain that was remastering normal patterns of thought, then. "He's just a kid."

"He's not that young," Gwaine countered. "Old enough to know that playing people like that is wrong." Particularly when it caused messes that made him feel guilty for not being around and left him waiting tables as well as trying to do his actual job.

"Sometimes there are...I don't know, circumstances. Maybe he really liked both of them, or something." Gwaine hadn't really had Merlin pegged as the voice of reason (or lack thereof, in his opinion) in cases like this; whilst he wasn't one for commitment, Merlin was almost certainly the sort who'd make sure that fact was known, and that he'd have sympathy for someone who didn't made Gwaine a little...uncomfortable.

"Hmph," Gwaine said (or hmphed, as the case more accurately was), trying to find something slightly more suitable to follow it with.

Merlin glanced over at him again, clearly reading something in Gwaine's face that he hadn't intended to be there. "Sorry," he said, reaching out his hand and squeezing Gwaine's knee gently. "It's not like I know any of them, is it? I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," Gwaine's mouth replied, before his head had time to think it through. "You can say what you want. I don't expect you to agree with me all the time." He didn't want him to, either, he decided; if Merlin agreed with him willingly that was all good and well, but if he didn't Gwaine would rather know that than have him pretend.

"In that case, I think your no-sex rule is stupid." Merlin's voice was some combination of amused and petulant, and Gwaine didn't really know what to do other than try not to nod in agreement. It didn't matter if he thought the same thing as Merlin right now, because he liked him. Gwaine didn't even know him, and he liked him enough to know he wanted more than just skin and sweat and an empty bed come morning; sleeping with Merlin already wasn't happening. Particularly not in his office, at a time when the place was full of his employees and – very shortly – people who would probably want to eat without he and Merlin providing a pornographic soundtrack to their meals. It wasn't happening, not in his restaurant or in Merlin's car (because even if it hadn't been broad daylight and the restaurant had had an even slightly private car park, there was still the problem of it being a stupidly small car, and Gwaine was a little ashamed that he'd even considered it a possibility for a very brief two minutes or so) or at his or Merlin's homes that evening.

Merlin stopped in the street outside rather than pulling into the car park, and left the engine running. Gwaine liked to think that it was because whilst Merlin might not like with Gwaine's rule, he was willing enough to play along with it that he chose to avoid overt temptation, but he supposed it was equally likely that Merlin just had to be somewhere in a hurry, and wasn't that a depressing thought?

"So the film was good," he offered, reluctant to cross the invisible but very real line between their seats seeing as he'd finally managed to talk himself out of sticking his hands down Merlin's pants.

"Was it?" Merlin replied, spluttering into surprised laughter. "I don't remember any of it." He grinned at Gwaine, wide and amused and just a little suggestive.

"The blood was the same colour as your drink," Gwaine told him, shrugging. "That's about all I've got."

"Good to know." Merlin's grin dimmed slightly, and he stretched out a hand towards Gwaine. _Don't_, Gwaine thought, but he didn't have to say it; Merlin didn't try to pull him in for another round, just brushed Gwaine's hair out of his face, tucking a strand behind his ear. "I'm glad it's not just me."

Gwaine turned his head to brush his lips against Merlin's palm, then pulled away from it; Merlin let his hand fall, then moved it back to his side of the car. "I have..." Gwaine began, and stalled, because what he had to do so very definitely didn't correlate with what he wanted to do.

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, me too. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"You have no idea," Gwaine said, hand on the door handle. "You'll call me?" And that didn't sound insecure at all; he was just the essence of confidence when Merlin was around.

"No."

Gwaine blinked, opened the door, and made an attempt at pretending that didn't hurt him. _Okay_, he tried to say, or possibly just _goodbye_ (_why_ was not okay, though. He was _not_ going to let himself ask that) but the words stuck in his throat and the best he could do was nod. He climbed out of the car and made to close the door behind him.

"No!" Merlin repeated, his voice urgent and pitched differently enough that Gwaine paused, leaning down slightly to see him, one hand on the roof of the car and the other on the top of his door. "I didn't mean _no_-no. I just thought it was probably your turn to call me."

_Oh_, Gwaine thought. That was an entirely different matter.

X

The phone rang twice before there was a click and Gwaine heard Merlin's laughter on the other end. "You do know it's only...thirteen minutes since I left you, don't you?"

"And it's what, five minutes drive to your work from here? Plenty of time for you to get there, even with traffic." There was a soft knock on Gwaine's open office door and he looked up to see Leon leaning against the doorframe. He held up his left hand in a _wait a minute_ gesture, then said into the phone, "I was thinking tomorrow night. A meal or something."

"I'd love to," Merlin replied, then sighed. "But I can't. Damn, sorry. Wednesday?"

"Not the evening. Afternoon?"

"No, I'm working then." Wasn't that inconvenient, trying to juggle two schedules, particularly seeing as Gwaine's left him only two evenings off a week, and he had no idea what the hell Merlin's work hours were like. "Thursday afternoon?"

"Thursday's fine. I'll meet you at the shop?" Leon glanced at his watch, and Gwaine mouthed _sorry_ at him, not entirely sincerely.

"Sounds good," Merlin agreed. "Ugh, customers. I have to go."

"Bye," Gwaine replied, happy to have the chance to do so this time, even if Thursday seemed an awfully long way away. Only silence answered him; he glanced at the blankness of the screen, then put the phone down on his desk. Which, he realised now that it was in front of him, would take a fair amount of clearing before it was in any state for him to be doing anything on top of it, and the whole sweeping everything off the surface thing was dramatic and sexy and all, but the tidying up and reorganising that would need to come afterwards really wasn't.

Leon cleared his throat and Gwaine jumped (if he was the sort of guy who embarrassed easily he'd probably have blushed too, but he wasn't so it was fine). "Sorry, Leon. Was there something you wanted?"

"Not hugely. I've made a few of those new meals up if you want to try them?" Gwaine nodded, a little reluctantly (a little voice in the back of his mind seemed pretty determined to remind him that there was at least some chance he was about to eat dishes made from substances that should never ever go together). "Do you want to come through to the kitchen, or shall I bring them in here?"

Gwaine stood, glancing at his phone once more, then followed Leon to the kitchen. There weren't half as many people in there as there tended to be in the evening, just Leon and one of his minions (not the douche-bag sous-chef, thank God, because Gwaine still kind of wanted to sack him, circumstances be damned), which made it preferable to eating in his office alone.

He'd tried enough of the first and second dishes to know that the former was a definite possibility and the latter probably wasn't when Leon looked up from whatever he was working on, called his underling over to supervise it as it bubbled away, and made his way across the kitchen to loom over Gwaine (there should, Gwaine thought, be a law forbidding people over a certain height from standing while others were sitting). "So you looked kind of down about not seeing your guy tomorrow," he said, waiting for Gwaine to shrug his agreement before continuing. "And I was thinking, Morgana and I are going out for drinks with a few old friends, if you wanted to come along?"

Gwaine gave him his best scrutinising look, trying to decide whether it was worse to accept the pity-invite and hang out with a whole host of people he didn't know but who would almost certainly know why he was there than it was to sit at home watching films and making his way through far too many of the beers in his fridge. "Yeah," he agreed, offering up something approaching a smile. "Sure, why not? Thanks."

Drinking and making new friends were essentially two of his favourite things, after all. Not quite on a par with sexually frustrating kissing with Merlin (it really shouldn't be possible for a man to cock-block himself, and yet that sure as hell seemed to be what he was doing, even if it was for good reasons), but it could work as an alternative.


	6. Oh

**Title:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> Peach  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Possibly rather more f-bombing than is required, Leon/Morgana (I make no excuses and offer no explanations, and for all my rants about how some pairings are plausible and others really aren't, this one keeps cropping up in almost every Modern AU that I write), a degree of predictability that rivals that in the latest chapter of _Hunger_, a very poorly titled chapter (apt, I think, though), and content that probably merits the rating change. And, just as a point, this is not what I have been warning about.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I live in hope. As do the characters, but they're probably hoping the opposite to me.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Well, it's only a day later than I intended it to be. The second to last bit went on forever, and the only part of that chunk that was actually planned was the one bit very close to end of it that I still can't get to blend as well as I'd like it to. Thanks again to _baje_ for the anonymous review, and to everyone else, of course. Expect the next one in a fortnight, or there abouts, depending on how it goes, and maybe show your delight that I have returned from my unpleasant work-induced absence with lots of lovely comments, please? Peach.

**Chapter Six - _Oh_**

Leon's girlfriend, Morgana, was nine kinds of crazy, none of them dangerous, and Gwaine found the fact that she was dating Leon – staid and sensible Leon – completely inexplicable. He'd observed as much every time he'd met her; not many, but occasionally she'd stopped by the restaurant to see Leon in an evening and stuck her head into his office to let him know she was going into the kitchen. He'd let it go, because she was generally harmless and the staff all seemed willing to put up with her dry mockery.

And then there was the fact that she could probably rip him to shreds if she really wanted to, and look dead-sexy whilst doing it; Gwaine was fairly willing to let her break the _no civilians in the kitchen_ rule as long as she didn't touch anything edible.

"I hear you're coming out with us this evening," she said, stalking into his office without knocking (she never did) towards the end of the lunch shift.

Gwaine looked up at her, standing in his doorway in alarmingly high heels, black jeans that fit like a second skin, and a blouse that was more than a little risqué. "I was planning on it, yes. Is that a problem?" He wasn't entirely sure how serious a question that was, but, he thought, watching Morgana sashay across the room to perch on the chair at the other side of his desk, if she said it was an issue he'd probably change his mind about going.

"It shouldn't be," she allowed, "but I wanted to talk to you before I went to see Leon." Her face softened a little at the mention of him, and Gwaine felt his apprehension lessen a little. "I don't know you too well, but Leon tells me you have a tendency to drink." _Tendency_ was perhaps a little unfair, Gwaine thought, but he wasn't going to correct her. "He's too nice to say it himself, but I thought I should make something clear. My brother doesn't drink, nor does one of our friends, and you aren't to suggest that they do, understand?"

Gwaine nodded, wondering just how many unflattering things Leon had chosen to tell his girlfriend about him. "I wouldn't," he said, sounding a little defensive, and vaguely considered telling her that the guy he was seeing was teetotal, but decided not to.

"Then there's no problem," she said, smiling as she uncrossed her legs and stood. "We'll be picking you up at eight from your house, so I shall see you then."

With that, she swept from the room, not waiting for a reply. The door clicked closed behind her, the only sign of her presence the lingering scent of her perfume, something cloyingly sweet with a hint of darkness to it.

Gwaine imagined she was into some seriously kinky stuff. Add to that Leon's fascination with medieval weaponry and...those so weren't mental images Gwaine wanted.

X

Gwaine left the restaurant about quarter to seven; later than he'd intended to, but there'd been a problem with one of the drink pumps at lunch and it had taken a couple of hours to get it repaired. He locked the front door behind the repairman, then walked through the building turning off lights and checking doors and windows before letting himself out the back into an exceptionally shadowy alcove. He added replacing the bulb above the door to the list of things he had to sort out, along with speaking to Leon and any other smokers on his staff about the unholy number of cigarette butts littering the floor, and then noticed the slightly darker human shaped shadow leaning against the wall a short distance from the door Gwaine had just locked behind him.

"Hello?" he called cautiously, although he was fairly sure he could take whoever the tall, skinny shadow was.

The shadow stepped forwards, yellow-orange light from the closest streetlamp illuminating the planes of his face. "Just me," Merlin grinned, and Gwaine let the tenseness of his shoulders fall away. "I was passing by. Saw your car still outside, thought I'd say hello." He ambled over, and Gwaine moved to meet him halfway, smiling. Merlin's voice was low, with undertones of laughter and maybe more, as he leaned down and said, "hello."

Gwaine closed the small distance between them, holding the contact for a moment before replying. "Hi."

"Hello," Merlin repeated, voice even lower. Gwaine tried not to laugh, because Merlin probably wouldn't appreciate it even if it wasn't exactly enough of a kiss to induce repetition.

"I thought you were busy tonight," he said, linking both of his hands to Merlin's, fingers intertwined.

"I am. This is on my way home." He smiled, ruefully, eyes drifting from Gwaine's to their hands and then back again. "Almost on my way home." Gwaine smiled, ignoring Merlin's withering look long enough that he dropped it. "I have a few minutes anyway," Merlin told him, back-stepping into the shadows and using their joined hands to pull Gwaine after him. Not that it took a whole lot of pulling.

"How many minutes have you got?" Gwaine asked, as Merlin's back hit the wall and his chest hit Merlin.

He felt Merlin's breath on his face, warm and soft. "Enough," he murmured, leaning down so horribly, horribly slowly, "enough."

Gwaine kept their hands linked and where they were, even when Merlin made an effort to free his; they both had places to be that evening, and roaming hands were not particularly conducive to timelines. Even so, he had no idea how long they'd been kissing for when he pulled back and made an effort at finding something that could pass for conversation. "So I've been thinking," he managed, after a moment of racking his brain over every conversation he'd ever had with or about Merlin, "about something Will said."

"Oh," Merlin replied, forehead pressed to Gwaine's, breathing more than a little irregular, not that Gwaine's was a whole lot smoother. "You know that...whatever he said, that was...you aren't...what did he say?" He was so clearly reluctant to ask the question, or to finish the sentences that came before it, but he asked anyway. Or maybe he just had the same concern about reaching his destination at some point that night, but Gwaine went with the reluctance explanation.

"It wasn't the stuff he said to me in the cafe, don't worry." They hadn't exactly discussed it, beyond Merlin apologising for it, and Gwaine was largely content to leave it that way; Merlin had called, after all, and they were making plans, sans sex, so Gwaine figured he actually did mean something different to him. "It was after that, when you rang me. I heard him in the background, asking how he was supposed to know you were dating me. And so I was wondering, are you?" Gwaine marvelled inwardly at the way Merlin managed to make him sound so completely uncertain and more than a little garbled, but he wasn't going to let it stop him. Multiple dates, more than one of which involved fairly heavy kissing in far too public a place, and with most people it'd be reasonably safe to say that they were dating, but Merlin, Gwaine had thought more than once, wasn't exactly most people. And he'd said some things that sounded like he wanted them to be together, couple-together, but maybe Gwaine was just seeing what he wanted to see.

"Am I what?"

Gwaine swallowed, because Merlin's expression of what seemed like genuine confusion combined with his uncertainty made him question the whole _not stopping him_ thing. He thought of replying _nothing_ and letting the matter drop – it had to have been at least a minute since they'd stopped kissing, but given the continued unevenness of Merlin's breathing and the pressing hardness of his erection against Gwaine's, he reckoned starting back up again would work as a pretty good distraction from his words – and then decided to hell with it. "Dating me. Are we dating?"

"Is that what you want?" There was a smidgen of surprise to Merlin's voice, or so Gwaine thought, but with the shadows he couldn't see if it was echoed on his face.

"Is that what _you _want, Merlin?"

"I asked first," Merlin argued, and it wasn't quite dark enough for Gwaine to miss the slightly petulant set of his mouth.

"No, I think you'll find I did," he replied. He sighed, accepting that that probably wasn't going to go anywhere. "Look, if you want to say no, say it. I can take it." And he could; it might not make him happy, but he could deal with it, and it was better to know if this was going to go anywhere before Gwaine let himself get even more invested.

"And if I don't?" Less surprise now, Gwaine suspected, and more likely something approaching a challenge; this time he felt slightly more sure of what Merlin was feeling.

He slipped one hand from Merlin's – not difficult, since it was still only his grasp keeping them linked – and pressed it to Merlin's cheek. "You think I'd be unhappy if you wanted to date me?"

"I'm not exactly forthcoming with the truth, am I?" Merlin said, turning his head away, then closed his eyes when Gwaine moved to try keep eye contact in the gloom. "You want to put up with that in a relationship?" His voice was still challenging, but his gestures implied he felt about as certain as Gwaine did.

"Everyone has their secrets, Merlin. We've had this conversation already, or one very much like it. I like you." He sighed again, stroking his thumb along Merlin's cheekbone like he wanted to the very first time he met him. "I can wait until you're ready to let me in."

Merlin opened his eyes again, turning his head back in to Gwaine's palm. "I'm not going to start telling you things just because we make this official."

"I don't expect you to," Gwaine countered, trying to sound as sincere as he felt. He'd already resolved himself to knowing as much of Merlin as Merlin wanted him to, and no more. "Which kind of brings us back to where we were, doesn't it? Do you want this to be official?"

Merlin nodded, very slowly, placing his hand over Gwaine's and pulling it away to re-entwine their fingers. "I think...yeah, I do."

"Alright-y then," Gwaine smiled, leaning back up to kiss him again, quickly, because they really did have destinations and the conversation had pretty much killed all of Gwaine's free time (damn his foolish desire to have a relationship not solely based on sex). "Mmm," he murmured, with some difficulty, given that Merlin's lower lip was between his teeth. He made himself let go, stepping back more than the slight distance he'd been at before, and released Merlin's hands. "We have to go," he said, somewhat more distinctly, and it took just as much effort.

"We do," Merlin agreed, audibly reluctant. He looked at his watch, then groaned. "Damn, I really do." He paused for a moment, stepping into the glow of the streetlamp after Gwaine. "So does this mean you're going to fuck me now?" He drawled it slowly, dragging out each syllable, and Gwaine imagined very little could be hotter than the way Merlin's mouth moved over the word, the promising bite of his teeth on his lower lip on the _f_ turning into an equally promising and slightly feral grin on the _k_.

Gwaine did not gasp, or gape. He may briefly have fought the temptation to kiss Merlin all over again before stopping very, _very_ briefly to call Leon and tell him he was cancelling before dragging Merlin back to his car and his home like a very horny caveman, but he was still completely calm and collected as he replied. Completely. "Thursday, we said? You want to meet me at my place?"

"Yes," Merlin breathed. "So very much yes. I'll see you then." He stood still for a moment, eyes running up and down Gwaine's body in a way that made him feel far less clothed than he actually was, and then he was gone, hurrying off to his car with a grin on his face that rivalled Gwaine's own.

X

Gwaine drove home in something of a daze. Not an unsafe one, perhaps, but a daze nonetheless. He thought it was at least a little justified, though, given the way Merlin had looked at him before he left. And maybe he'd capitulated a little easily, but...okay, he had no real excuse beyond the fact that he wasn't used to saying no to things he wanted, and he wanted Merlin badly. Merlin had agreed to date him, as well, and would he really have done that if he was planning on sleeping with Gwaine and never speaking to him again?

He left his car on the drive, given how little time he had before Leon and Morgana arrived and the fact that he'd quite like to shower before they got there. Except the path to the shower took him through his bedroom, where his bed sat, innocent and entirely unaware of what his Thursday afternoon plans involved – and, really, afternoon? – and his mind circled right back to the start of its one track.

Two minutes of standing under a freezing cold jet of water was enough to reveal just how stubbornly single-minded he could be, images of he and Merlin spiralling through his mind. The two of them together, lying in his bed in broad daylight, sun glistening off their sweat-covered skin and the sheets tangled around them as Gwaine moved inside Merlin until they were both sated, satisfied, collapsing exhausted side by side. It was far too easy to picture it, hear the heaviness of their breathing, the grunts and groans and moans, to taste Merlin, even smell him, and no amount of time spent in the rush of icy water was going to do anything to lessen his erection.

Gwaine squinted at the clock on his bathroom wall – half an hour, give or take – and then turned the water up to hot, throwing away his feeble attempts to prevent his mind from drifting where it wanted. He closed his eyes and let the tight fist of his right hand on his cock become Merlin's mouth, hot and wet and so very eager to please him.

X

"Sorry," Gwaine said twenty five minutes later as he opened the front door and held it open for Leon and Morgana to enter his house. "I know, I'm running late. Took longer than I'd expected to get the drinks thing fixed." In the interests of all involved he thought it best not to mention Merlin stopping by to see him or the serious case of...lateness his visit caused, and it wasn't all that much of a lie, anyway. "I'll just be a minute," he promised, leaving then standing in the hallway as he ran upstairs to resume his hunt for a pair of socks.

He returned downstairs only minutes later to find the hallway empty, and followed the sound of voices to his living room, Leon's low and concerned while Morgana's was just as loud and carefree as always. "What are you doing?" Leon hissed as Gwaine pushed the door open, looking all kinds of worried as his girlfriend knelt in order to run a hand along the rows of DVDs and books on Gwaine's shelves.

"Chill," she said, laughing softly. "I'm just looking."

"It's none of your business," Leon argued. "Leave his things alone, Morgana."

"I'm just looking," she repeated. "Oh, hel_lo_," she said, plucking a box off the second to last shelf and tapping well-manicured nails against it. "I've always wanted to see this."

Gwaine cleared his throat, opening the door the rest of the way and walking into the room. "See anything else during your snooping that you'd like to borrow?" he asked, somewhat less bothered than Leon had expected him to be, if the lines on his brow were any indication. Anything he didn't want people to see he kept out of sight, though, so there wasn't too much for him to worry about.

"See?" Morgana said to Leon. "Gwaine doesn't care." She stood, smoothing the creases from her skirt with one hand, the film still in the other, and Gwaine wondered vaguely how she managed to kneel so easily, given that her heels were even higher than the ones she'd worn that afternoon. "Leon'll return this in a couple of days?"

"No problem," Gwaine agreed. "Don't we have somewhere to be, though?"

"We do," Leon answered, shepherding Morgana from the room with a hand on each of her shoulders, casting an apologetic look at Gwaine as they passed him.

X

They arrived at the pub where they were meeting Leon and Morgana's friends at a little before half eight. Gwaine had opted to drive his own car rather than cram himself into the back of Leon's tiny, two-door Citroen (it was practical, Leon said, and very safe. Gwaine didn't waste his breath arguing, preferring to save it for laughing every time he saw Leon climbing in or out of the car), parking his girl in a space next to a rather fine silver Merc. Incredibly fine, he amended, running a speculative eye over it as he climbed out of his own car and walked across the car park to where Leon was making his way around his own car for Morgana. He came to a halt next to them in time to see Leon half-bow and say, "a hand, my lady?"

Morgana giggled in a way Gwaine found deeply disturbing, placing her hand in Leon's and standing, letting Leon close the door behind her and lead them into the pub.

It was an old place, Gwaine noted with some surprise, and not the sort of pub he'd have imagined them likely to frequent. A steady plume of wood smoke curled from a chimney on the roof, the smell reminding Gwaine of the house he'd grown up in, where a fire had burned in the living room from October to April. Inside, the walls were whitewashed plaster, dark wooden beams on the ceiling decorated with horseshoes and copper pans; a proper, old-fashioned English pub. He placed Leon's friends immediately, largely because the group of guys were a good decade younger than most of the other patrons, but chose to follow Leon to the bar to buy drinks rather than go with Morgana to the table.

By the time he and Leon had transported eight drinks – a coke, a lemonade, a gin and tonic, and five pints of whatever real ale it was the place had on tap – back to the table, Morgana was leaning in to talk to a blond guy quite intently, leaving Leon to give a cursory set of introductions as various hands reached out for glasses.

"Let's see," Leon said, pushing Gwaine into a chair between a veritable giant and a handsome brunet. "That's Percival on your right, Elyan on his other side." The giant nodded, while a black guy leaned past him to shake hands. "Lance – Lancelot, but he isn't exactly fond of that, are you, Lance? – on your other side, and the blond is Arthur, Morgana's brother." Lance smiled at Gwaine, but Arthur was apparently too busy with his conversation to acknowledge the presence of someone he didn't know. "Guys, this is Gwaine. My boss, so if you think you could all play nice, please?"

With that, Leon sat in the empty chair between Elyan and Morgana, sliding the as yet unclaimed lemonade towards Arthur. Elyan and Percival resumed a conversation about football; not Gwaine's sport, which left him to turn to Lance, wondering what he had to talk about. His glance landed on the glass of coke still in the middle of the table. "Is someone not here yet?" he asked, nodding at the glass when Lance looked confused.

"No, whoever gets here last buys the first round," Lance told him. "That's Merlin's, he should be back in a minute."

"Merlin?" That was a surprise and a half, and a freaking huge coincidence. There couldn't be two men with that name in a town that small, though; that would be just as improbable as Leon knowing Gwaine's Merlin, if not more so. But...but...

"Yeah," Lance said, "Merlin. Trust me, between the lot of us, we've heard them all. He got here with Arthur. The two of them are- oh, there he is."

Gwaine looked up to see Merlin – yep, definitely his Merlin, not that he was really in all that much doubt – pause as he walked towards the table, his eyes widening slightly before he resumed walking, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt on his way. He shook his head in a single, tiny motion, left, then right, and back centre again, so small Gwaine probably wouldn't have noticed it if Merlin's eyes hadn't been locked on his, if he hadn't been waiting for some form of acknowledgement.

"Oi," Merlin said, clapping his hand down on Arthur's shoulder. "You're blocking my seat."

"It's not nice to interrupt when people are talking, _Mer_lin," Arthur drawled; the first sentence Gwaine had actually heard from him, and it made his hackles rise. Even so, both Arthur and Morgana moved back, allowing Merlin access to the empty seat between them.

Merlin sat, snagging his coke and taking a sip. "Thanks," he said, nodding at Leon and raising his glass at him gratefully, then turned to Gwaine. "I don't believe I know you," he grinned, half-standing to hold out his hand.

"Gwaine," he replied, not entirely sure why Merlin was pretending he didn't know him but, as ever, willing to play along until he got a moment to ask what the hell was going on without being overheard. "I run the restaurant Leon works at." He smiled, slipping his hand into Merlin's and squeezing gently, brushing his thumb over Merlin's knuckles before allowing his fingertips to ghost over Merlin's palm as he let go.

Merlin's grin broadened, bright and bold, and Gwaine's heart quickened a little. "Nice to meet you," he said, retaking his seat. "I wasn't expecting to see someone I didn't know here," he added, looking first at Leon and then at Morgana in a very pointed way.

"Sorry," Leon murmured, while Morgana patted Merlin's arm gently – about the softest gesture Gwaine had ever seen from her, including her interactions with Leon. "It was a little bit spur of the moment. Morgana was supposed to tell Arthur at work today, but..." Leon trailed off, presumably unwilling to say anything further against his girlfriend.

"My mind was on other things," Morgana finished for him with a shrug. "I left early, anyway, and Arthur started late, didn't you, brother dearest?"

"Late night," Arthur told her, expression bordering on a smirk. "Add to that the fact that someone woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn falling downstairs on his way to work."

Elyan leant forward, appearing between Percival and Leon (Gwaine really didn't envy him that seat). "Surely if you were awake all that early, you have no excuse for being late."

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Merlin agreed, laughing quietly. "Except, of course, that Arthur's _butt-crack of dawn_ is about eight am."

"Are you alright?" Gwaine asked, the slightly squinty expression of confusion Leon wore suggesting that he possibly sounded just a little too concerned. But he was allowed to worry about an almost total stranger, and he was certainly allowed to worry about the guy he was dating. Secretly dating, or so it seemed, but dating nonetheless.

Merlin's smile morphed into something softly appreciative. "Yeah, thanks. I'm fine; it was only three steps. Nice that _someone_ cares enough to ask, though."

"It's not that we don't care, Merlin," Lance said, and Gwaine thought he sounded far more sincere than Merlin's sarcasm had merited.

"But if we asked how you were every time you tripped over your own feet, we'd never stop asking." The laughter that followed Arthur's remark was kind, if a little mocking. Merlin took it good-naturedly, and Gwaine figured he had to have been friends with them all for quite a while. Five, six years, probably, or there about, seeing as he'd said he met Arthur in his first year at university, and went home for a few years after. Gwaine felt a flash of...envy, frosty and more than a little uncomfortable, coiling tightly in his stomach as he watched them all. He pushed it down, focusing instead on the way Merlin's elbow planted itself in Arthur's side. Fairly hard, if Arthur's wince was anything to go by.

"God, Merlin," Arthur said as he rubbed the place Merlin's blow had landed, borderline whining. "No one who eats as much as you should have elbows that sharp."

Morgana laughed, reaching across Merlin to pat her brother's shoulder in faux-sympathy (Gwaine recognised her expression from the time she'd brought him a coffee to his office – at Leon's request, on a morning when Gwaine had been particularly hungover and irritable – and failed to warn him just how hot it was). "Diddums," she offered, just as unsympathetic. "Did skin-and-bones Merlin hurt you?"

Arthur glared, the answer quite clearly _yes_, but apparently unwilling to press the point further.

"Speaking of eating," Gwaine said into the silence that followed their teasing. "I didn't get time for dinner this evening. What's the food here like?"

"It's good," Lance replied. "Menus are at the bar. You'll want to move now, though; the kitchen closes at nine."

Gwaine glanced at his watch – almost ten to – and pushed his chair out to stand. "Thanks," he said, clapping a hand on Lance's shoulder, then paused, wondering if should ask if anyone else wanted anything. It wasn't like he really knew anyone there other than Leon, Morgana and Merlin, but they all seemed like the sort of people who'd do that, and he wanted to fit in, stupidly much, more because they were Merlin's friends than because they were Leon's.

Fortunately, Merlin saved him the trouble of deciding either way by also standing. "I'll come with you. I got home too late to get anything myself, given how much Arthur was bitching about us not getting here on time. No one else wants anything, do you?"

Gwaine was right about the offering, then, even as everyone shook their heads in response to it. He walked with Merlin over to the bar, pretending not to notice the way Merlin glanced back over his shoulder to be sure they were out of hearing range before speaking. "Leon's the incredible chef you employ?"

"_That's_ what you begin with?" Gwaine answered, knowing his tone bordered on irritated, even as he told himself that barely two hours ago he'd said that he didn't have a problem with Merlin not sharing everything. "A _sorry I'm pretending I don't know you_ might be nice."

Merlin floundered for a second whilst Gwaine carried on walking, resting his elbows on the bar and waiting for the barman to get to him. Merlin caught up only a second or two later, leaning next to Gwaine, not particularly at a distance from him but that was how it seemed after their closeness outside his restaurant that evening, after how much closer Gwaine had imagined them getting. "I am sorry," he said. Gwaine turned to look at him, mostly to see if his expression matched the earnest tone of his voice (it did). "I am, it's just..."

He stopped, and Gwaine figured it was one of the silences left there deliberately, waiting for the other person to fill it. And he could, easily, the word _complicated_ being the first to come to mind, but doing so would excuse it, make it okay that Merlin wanted to keep it from his friends that he was seeing Gwaine without offering any explanation as to why. He waited – ordering a cheeseburger and chips when it was his turn to be served – because he could deal with being a secret, but it had better be for a damn good reason.

"Just chips, please," Merlin said, turning back to Gwaine when the barman left them to take their orders to the kitchen. "I haven't...it's been a while since I introduced someone to my friends. They can be kind of..._protective_. I didn't want you to have to deal with it without warning you. Sorry." He moved his hand along the counter towards Gwaine, slowly, and Gwaine figured he was giving him the chance to move if he wanted to.

He didn't, waiting for Merlin's fingers to rest lightly on his arm. "Okay," Gwaine told him, squeezing his hand gently. "For future reference, however, I can handle myself." Words had never exactly bothered him too much, after all, although he would prefer it if Merlin's mates' protectiveness didn't go beyond that.

"I'm sure you can," Merlin agreed, expression doubtful.

Gwaine pressed Merlin's hand against his arm, holding it there with maybe a little more force than was required. He was saved from having to find some suitably scathing but hopefully not offensive response by Lance's voice. "Budge up," he said, and before Gwaine had properly registered the meaning of the words Merlin's hand was gone from his arm, vanishing despite Gwaine's hold on it. He didn't have time to be offended, since less than a second after that Merlin was pressed close against his side to make room for Lance at the bar beside him. "Arthur decided he wanted something to eat as well, and seeing as it was your fault the first round was almost his, you owe him it."

"Right," Merlin replied, turning to look at Lance, and Gwaine figured from his voice that he was grinning. "Because that's fair, isn't it?"

"You got enough to cover it?" Lance asked, reaching into the back left pocket of his jeans and pulling out a brown leather wallet, well-stitched and obviously expensive.

"Yeah, I'm good," Merlin agreed, pushing away the fiver Lance tried to give him. "I'll nick it back next time he leaves his wallet lying around. I don't suppose he told you what he wanted, did he?" Lance snorted a laugh – Gwaine didn't find it anywhere near as appealing as when Merlin did the same thing – and Merlin shook his head. "No, I didn't think so. I'll be back in a minute." He took a step back from the bar, the sudden lack of contact leaving Gwaine's skin cool and tingling slightly everywhere Merlin had touched him, a sensation that only increased when Merlin's hand brushed over his arse as he walked back to the table. He probably made it look accidental, Gwaine thought, on the off chance that anyone was looking, but he was about as sure as he could be that it wasn't.

"So why did Arthur send you?" Gwaine asked when Lance showed no signs of intending to follow Merlin.

Lance shrugged. "I offered, sort of. It's my round, and he decided that seeing as I was coming over here anyway I could pass on the message. Speaking of, are you having another drink?"

"I'm okay, thanks," Gwaine replied, a little surprised by the offer. Accepting Leon's invitation was, he decided, an excellent idea, and would have been even if Merlin hadn't been there, because they seemed like pretty decent folks, for the most part. "I didn't much fancy riding with Leon and Morgana, so I drove here."

"You think that's bad? Back when we were at university, Elyan was the only one of us who had a car with anything close to enough space for us all – this is before we met Percival, of course." Lance paused, smiling softly, and Gwaine waited for the punch line. "Elyan drove a Mini."

"Cosy, huh?" Gwaine laughed; three guys over six foot in a Mini was ridiculous enough, but Lance and Elyan as well was...mad.

"Certainly one word for it. You sure I can't buy you another drink? Doesn't have to be alcohol."

Gwaine shook his head, refusing for a second time without being entirely sure why. He intended to stick around long enough to have the chance to return the offer, after all, given how important everyone seemed to be to Merlin, and how important Merlin seemed to them all. All of them but Arthur, at least, who, quite frankly, seemed to be a dick. Gwaine wasn't quite tactless enough to say it, however, which left him trying to find a slightly less blunt thing to ask than why Merlin was living with him. "Is Arthur always so..."

"Arrogant?" Merlin finished, appearing behind them and saving Gwaine from having to resort to the same word. "Obnoxious?" he continued, settling back against the bar in the same place he'd been in before. "Bossy? Only on days than end in a _y_."

"That's hardly fair, Merlin," Lance argued, voice quiet and bordering on apologetic as he did so; Gwaine figured he wasn't one for confrontation. "Arthur's not exactly good with showing how he feels." Merlin huffed in disagreement, and Lance frowned at him. "You know he loves you, Merlin."

Gwaine felt Merlin start next to him, in the less-than-second it took for him to step away until they were no longer touching. "I wouldn't go that far," Merlin said, something a little shaky in his voice, hand grasping blindly towards Gwaine's arm again.

Gwaine fought the urge to shake it off, telling himself that love didn't necessarily mean _love_, even if it was an odd statement for one bloke to say about two other men unless it was meant in the most traditional sense.

"You know what," Gwaine said, trying to cut through the slightly tense silence that was Lance's refusal to respond to Merlin's remark (and no, he wasn't going to let himself worry about that either, or entertain thoughts about what it might have meant). "I will have that drink, please. Coke?"

Merlin relaxed subtly, thumb stroking Gwaine's forearm gently – possibly gratefully, Gwaine thought. He let him, let the hand stay even with his uncertainty, because Merlin...okay, not Merlin, because Gwaine had apparently lost pretty much all sense of self-respect since he'd met Merlin.

"No problem," Lance agreed, seemingly unaware of whatever it was passing between Merlin and Gwaine. "And you, Merlin? What's Arthur having?"

"He isn't," Merlin replied, offering a low laugh, still feeble in comparison to some Gwaine had heard from him but strong enough that Gwaine gathered his stillness had worked as reassurance somehow. He wasn't quite sure that was what he'd intended it to be, because he kind of felt like he was the one who deserved reassuring – damn, he seriously hoped Merlin would be doing some reassuring as soon as there weren't other people present – but on the other hand he wasn't exactly fond of the thought of worrying Merlin. "The prat just likes making us all dance. Coke for me as well, please."

And that was that, Lance and Merlin launching into some complicated conversation about people Gwaine didn't know and things he wasn't there to witness as they waited for their food and drinks. Merlin's hand continued to brush along his arm, though, comforting and apologetic – and that was Gwaine's imagination running away with him, wasn't it, reading a ridiculous amount into the simple, repetitive motion of Merlin's thumb on his arm – until their plates arrived on the counter before them along with Lance's tray of drinks.

That was that, except it wasn't, because as they returned to the table Gwaine started noticing things he hadn't before, or hadn't thought worthy of attention. Like how Arthur's chair was so close to Merlin's that Merlin's arm jostled him each time he moved food from his plate to his mouth. Or how Merlin just shrugged off all the insults Arthur threw at him, only offering the occasional remark in response. And, when Merlin did respond, how affectionate their sniping was, a fact that Gwaine had missed before, what with his immediate assumption that Arthur was an arse (which wasn't to say that he was revising that opinion, but he was possibly holding it under consideration).

It was too affectionate, something deep inside him said – something that was both worried and angry that it was worried – and he didn't like it at all.

"Hey, Merlin," he heard Morgana say as he finished his meal, and something about her voice drew him away from his anxiety-ridden thoughts towards the pair of them. Morgana's hand was looped through Merlin's arm, her expression soft and voice once again alarmingly gentle for her. "I didn't get the chance to ask how you were when we got here."

"You don't need to ask every time you see me, Morgana," Merlin replied. "I'm good, though." His voice was equally quiet, and his avoidance of Gwaine's eyes impressively stubborn. That was his mistake, Gwaine thought, because if Merlin hadn't tried to avoid his attention Gwaine probably wouldn't have thought it anything more than a general inquiry into Merlin's health. As it was, he added Morgana's kindness and potentially excessive concern to his list of Merlin-related curiosities, letting – or possibly making – that come before how close Arthur was still sitting to Merlin, even though there was more than enough room between he and Lance for him to move over a bit.

"Are you sure?" Morgana asked, and Gwaine ramped up his estimation of her mindset from _potentially excessive concern _to _maybe justified worry_.

Merlin extricated his arm from her grip and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her briefly into his side before letting go. "I really am, thanks. You shouldn't worry so much."

Morgana looked set to protest, but Arthur peeled himself from his conversation with Lance to interrupt. "Usually I'd agree with you, Sis," he said, "but in this case I think he's telling the truth. He was singing in the shower before we left. Deeply disturbing; I've never heard anything quite so tuneless." Arthur reached up and ruffled a hand through Merlin's hair, rough and possessive, as if in response to Merlin hugging his sister. The thin hope Gwaine held that he was misreading things stretched further, further, further –

"I'm guessing he stopped pretty quickly when you joined him, huh?" Elyan said, laughing, and the others joined in.

– and snapped, like the cheap elastic bands Gwaine had used for a couple of weeks when he'd experimented with tying his hair back (not a good look, at all).

Merlin's eyes searched out Gwaine's, big and blue and...something, though Gwaine didn't have a fucking clue what. He wrenched his gaze away, even as Arthur made some comment about how pretty Merlin's mouth was.

He did laugh at that, along with everyone else (everyone else but Merlin, some tiny part of him noted), but his was brittle and distinctly unamused. God, that was...well, maybe not ironic – Gwaine had never been entirely sure about applying that word – but it was certainly a sign that something out there had a pretty fucked up sense of humour. That he could be in his shower on one side of town, imagining Merlin in there with him, while across town Merlin was on his knees in his own shower, mouth wrapped around his _housemate's_ dick.

Fucking hell, he wanted to be somewhere else. Preferably drunk, maybe finding someone to distract him from the fact that the guy – except it wasn't, it was _Merlin_, and Gwaine didn't have to know everything about him to know that he wasn't_ just some guy_ – who had agreed only that afternoon that they were dating was with someone else. Sure, neither of them had mentioned exclusivity, but Gwaine had been bloody sure that it was implied, and...Even if Merlin hadn't realised that, Gwaine thought the existence of a current long-term relationship was really something that should be shared.

Leaving wasn't an option though, because even if Merlin – who was still looking at Gwaine with that expression, even while the conversation around them moved on – wasn't who Gwaine had thought he was, they were still Leon's mates. Buggering off without some kind of excuse would be rude, and Gwaine didn't exactly want everyone to know just how easily he'd been played, how sucked in he'd been by Merlin's man of mystery routine.

God, he was such a fucking idiot.

He made himself focus on the conversation instead of his...hurt, goddamnit, tuning back in in time to hear the end of his name. "Hmm?" he asked, looking at Leon, the speaker.

"Elyan's buying the next round. You want another?"

"Sure," he said, wanting to ask for a beer – seriously wanting to – but settling for fizzy crap instead.

X

It was another forty-five minutes – most of which Gwaine spent ignoring the buzz of his phone in his pocket and the way Merlin was clearly sending text messages from under the table in between his efforts to catch Gwaine's eye – before he decided he'd stuck around long enough that he could leave, making his excuses as politely as he could, some bull about not wanting to be too late home. Leon looked at him knowingly – Gwaine figured it was because Leon assumed his departure had something to do with his guy (and it did, just not in that way) – but didn't say anything beyond the same goodbyes everyone else did.

He sat in his car in the car park for a minute, head resting on the steering wheel as he let out the impressively long but remarkably unvaried – _fuck, fuck, buggering fuck _made a deeply unnecessary number of appearances – stream of curses that had been building in his brain since the evidence that Merlin wasn't _his Merlin_ – as he'd thought of him – became insurmountable. He felt a little better when he finally ran out of steam – with one last, resolute _fuck_, slightly louder than all the ones that came before – until he looked at his phone to see just how many messages Merlin had sent him: eight, none of which Gwaine opened. He didn't delete them, just didn't read them, although God alone knew why he kept them. Two minutes down the road, his phone rang, Merlin's name flashing up on the screen.

Gwaine ignored it, and the text from his voicemail service telling him he had a new message.

Merlin called again as he finished parking his car in the garage, a third time as Gwaine poured an unreasonable measure of whiskey into a glass, downed it, and then poured a second.

After that, he turned his phone off, leaving it on the table in his kitchen, and took the bottle and his glass into the living room.


	7. Phone Calls

**Title:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> Peach  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, examples of a very odd sense of humour. Sorry.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> This got boring a very long time ago.  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Not my best, I know. But it's more than three weeks since the last one, and if I managed to end it where I wanted to end it, it'd be at least another three. Hopefully the next one won't take so long, but I really don't know. A whole load of kind, encouraging reviews would be most welcome. Peach.

**We Are Young - Chapter Seven - Phone Calls  
><strong>

Gwaine woke up with a crick in his neck and the familiar post-binge-drinking fuzz on his teeth. He was lying on the sofa, empty bottle still clutched loosely in his hand (how he'd managed not to drop it in his sleep he had no idea), and his head throbbed dully with the kind of pain that came from drinking a little more than he should have done and a whole lot less than he wanted to.

"Coffee," he groaned, making an entirely graceless attempt at rolling to his feet and instead smacking first an elbow and then a knee on the coffee table before landing on the ground. He stood, rubbing at the ache in his neck as he made his way into the kitchen and stuck the kettle on, trying to ignore the fact that every time he closed his eyes the images from his oh-so-fucking-delightful dreams started playing again: Merlin and Arthur together, in any possible position and location, high-definition and full-on freaking surround sound.

God, Gwaine hated his life.

X

Coffee helped. It took a lot of it, but it helped.

As did riding his bike to work on the back roads, fast and more than a little reckless, speed and stupidity and that tiny whisper of fear whenever he took a corner too quick doing way more to clear his head than drink did.

He loved his car, he did, but even driving at his most idiotic it felt safe, contained, seatbelts and airbags and crumple zones all standing between him and danger. On his bike it was just him and his leathers and helmet, and if he gave in to the lingering, tingling temptation to give it a little more, wait a little longer before turning, lean a little further than he should, it'd be nothing more than sheer, dumb luck that kept him from being a long, bloody smear on the road. It made him feel awake, alive like little else could, which is why he kept his bike for occasions where he really needed it.

That day, it made him feel good enough that once he'd changed into jeans and fixed the flat mess his helmet had left of his hair, he turned his phone on. Another handful of missed calls from Merlin – four in the run-up to midnight, then another two between seven and half nine –, a couple more voicemail messages, and then a number neither he nor his phone recognised. Which wasn't good, really – who knew whose that number was, or why they wanted to speak to him? – and left Gwaine unfortunately facing the fact that turning his phone on every few hours to see if he had any new calls wasn't a good idea.

So his phone was turned on and lying on his desk in front of him for Merlin's next call at twelve and the voicemail message – number four – that followed it. His fingers twitched towards it – Merlin was pretty insistent, after all – but whatever Merlin wanted to say, he didn't really want to hear it. It wasn't going to change the fact that Merlin had allowed him to believe there was a chance they could have an actual relationship when in fact he just wanted a little bit on the side, a thought which effectively killed Gwaine's desire to answer the next three times Merlin rang, at approximately fifteen-minute intervals.

Those were the last calls Gwaine got for three hours – he took that to mean those were Merlin's work hours – and even then it was just the one call, on the dot of four. The reprieve was nice, Gwaine told himself. Repeatedly.

It didn't work, but that didn't mean he was going to answer.

X

At six, the calls started up again, with the same impressive – _infuriating_ – frequency. By half past, Gwaine decided he wasn't going to be getting any calls he desperately had to answer, given that it was about the end of work hours for most people, and turned his phone off again.

X

When Gwaine returned to his office after going to the loo somewhere around nine, he found the cheating bastard sous-chef lurking in the hall with a plate of food. He ignored him, stomping into his office and closing the door firmly behind him; he didn't want to talk to the little shit at the best of times, and taking his Merlin-related aggression out on him would only irk Leon after all he'd done to convince Gwaine about the necessity of the sous-chef to the running of the restaurant.

It took almost a minute for the tap on the door to come, and Gwaine spent that time amusing himself by picturing the guy's expression as he tried to decide what to do about Gwaine completely ignoring him. "Come in," Gwaine said, waiting with a single raised eyebrow for the sous-chef to enter. "What do you want?" he asked, glaring, when he did.

"Leon heard you leaving your office and sent me to bring you something to eat, seeing as you didn't come get anything at lunch, sir." He held the plate out in front of him like some sort of sacrificial offering, crossing the room very slowly and placing it on Gwaine's desk before backing away again.

"Hmph," Gwaine replied, because he couldn't justify shouting at him for that. Which, quite frankly, sucked; he really, really wanted to shout at someone, and the sous-chef would make the ideal target. "Thank you," he grumbled, sounding as ungrateful as he thought possible.

"You're welcome, Mr Lothian," the sous-chef said, making Gwaine feel simultaneously uncomfortable – the only time he was Mr Lothian was in letters, and he really didn't like hearing it in person – and a little guilty – he should really know his employees' names, even those he didn't like. "Do you want me to come back and get your plate in a bit, sir?"

Gwaine shook his head, pulling his meal over and poking at it with neither curiosity nor appetite. "I'll bring it through, thanks," he replied grudgingly. The sous-chef took this as a dismissal, which was really what it was supposed to be, making his way towards the door. Gwaine tried his best to resist the urge to ask his name, because he really didn't want to be responsible and know how to properly address his minions. He tried, and he lost. "Your name?" he demanded, before the sous-chef had the chance to turn the door handle and escape.

"Di-Richard, sir," the sous-chef answered. "I'm-"

"Yes, I know who you are," Gwaine interjected, cutting him off quite effectively, then stopped, registering what he'd just been told. Sure, Richard wasn't all that amusing, but he so clearly didn't go by that normally, and the fact that the cheating bastard actually introduced himself to people as Dick was just too good. "Dick," he added, because he wasn't about to miss that opportunity.

Richard stared for a moment, eyes wide and – Gwaine thought – deeply disconcerted, then fled.

Gwaine smiled for the first time since leaving the pub.

X

If riding his bike as he did in the morning was irresponsible, riding home that evening in the dark with the beginnings of ice on the roads was bordering on suicidal.

X

He got up on Thursday morning and stumbled his way into the shower, telling himself that one day of moping like a girl was fine, but that going back to bed was ridiculous and pathetic. He didn't know Merlin all that well, for God's sake, and he hadn't even slept with him, so he was going to bloody well drive to work – in his car, like a sane person – and stop being an idiot.

He scrubbed at his hair with a towel, contemplated drying it properly, and decided it just wasn't worth the hassle, bravely turning his phone on again instead: an evening full of calls and texts from Merlin, of course, and then two this morning – no, make that three, and this time Gwaine actually made the effort of hitting the ignore button rather than just pretending he hadn't heard it.

And then he pictured Merlin looking all hurt and dejected and hated himself for feeling guilty. He didn't have to, Goddamnit, because he wasn't the one in the wrong.

X

The plate was still on his desk when Gwaine entered his office that morning carrying the stack of post he needed to deal with – invoices, bills, stuff like that – and slumped irritably in his seat. The remains of the stew he'd eaten – excellent, as always, and not something on the standard menu – was firmly encrusted on the plate, and Gwaine was really quite pleased it wasn't his responsibility to wash things up, even if he'd said he'd take it into the kitchen yesterday and hadn't.

In fact, he decided, he would do that next, before getting bogged down with reordering the various food substances Leon said they were in need of (fresh produce was on standing order, delivered every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, varying only occasionally depending on what specials Leon was planning). He picked it up, grabbing a couple of mugs from his desk as well, and made his way down the hall to the kitchen, dumping his pots in the sink and mumbling a greeting at Leon, already hard at work with the preparations for lunch.

"Morning," Leon replied, far too cheerfully. He looked up from the green beans he was slicing then blinked. "God, you look awful, Gwaine. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Hmph," Gwaine said. "Not as much as I'd've liked, really." His dreams last night hadn't been a whole lot better than those of the night before – Arthur, head thrown back, hair darkened by the shower spray, water running down his bare chest, running a possessive hand through Merlin's hair as he knelt to pleasure him – but with the key difference that he'd woken up far more frequently and found it an awful lot harder to get to sleep again.

"Your man keeping you up?" Leon asked with a smirk, apparently not having picked up on Gwaine's irritability and wish not to speak about anything.

"In a manner of speaking," he answered, then some stupid impulse hit him and he found himself gushing about it, completely against his will. "I think he's cheating on me. Or on someone else with me, really, seeing as he's been with them longer than I've known him, probably, and..." He trailed off, regaining control of his tongue and turning away from Leon's stare. It didn't help that it was the first time he'd actually put it like that; he liked thinking of it as him being the one wronged, but he wasn't, probably. Assuming Merlin and Arthur weren't in an open relationship, and Arthur didn't know Merlin was sleeping with other people – but Will did know, so how would that work? Sure, Will hadn't been out with them, but he seemed just as fond of Merlin as Merlin's other friends were, and surely that meant he'd have spent time with them at some point – then Arthur was the one Merlin was hurting most, not Gwaine, even if he didn't know it.

Gwaine didn't like viewing it that way, though. He didn't like it at all, and it was so much easier to just leave the kitchen and return to his office before Leon could try to talk to him about it.

X

He didn't speak to anyone else for most of that day, skulking in his office until it was late evening and there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" he called, and the sous-chef – _Richard_, because Gwaine was going to save calling him Dick for special occasions – walked in, holding a plate of food for him again. Gwaine was reluctantly impressed, both by his timing (he was really quite hungry, but he supposed skipping both breakfast and lunch two days in a row did that to a person) and by the fact that he was brave enough to bring Gwaine food after his rudeness yesterday.

"Is everything okay, sir?" Richard asked, putting the plate at the edge of Gwaine's desk again. "Only we're used to seeing you in the kitchen slightly more often than this. Leon seemed concerned."

Gwaine looked at him, his raised eyebrow serving to convey the _why the hell do you think you have any business asking me that?_ far better than words could have done.

For the second day in a row, his last interaction with a human being involved the other person fleeing the room rather quickly.

X

On Friday morning, he woke late – he'd opted for drinking again, which helped him sleep through the night, even if his head made the morning more than a little unpleasant – and turned his phone back on. Only two calls on Thursday evening, none since. He told himself he wasn't disappointed, and dragged his reluctant limbs from his bed.

X

When all of Friday afternoon went by without a call from Merlin, Gwaine told himself that was the end of it. Merlin had clearly given up on trying to come up with some crappy explanation that allowed him to have something with Gwaine – sex, most likely, and then after that Gwaine would never have heard from him again – but still be whatever it was he and Arthur were to each other. He'd quit annoying him, and now Gwaine was free to move on and find someone who didn't throw drinks on him, drag him on ridiculous, childish activities and call them dates, or lurk in dark alleyways and bedroom doorways in order to surprise him with kisses.

No, the end of the incessant phone calls was the end of _them_, and Gwaine should really be a whole lot more happy about that fact than he was.

In deference to his resolution to stop moping over Merlin's treatment of him, Gwaine decided to get his own meals, lunch – slightly belated, maybe, but lunch nonetheless – as well as dinner.

Leon smiled sympathetically at him as he entered the kitchen (with the plate from dinner yesterday). "How are you today?" he asked, leaving behind the pastry cases he was working on to stand next to Gwaine by the door to the kitchen. "Did you find out what was happening with your boyfriend?"

Gwaine shook his head, appreciating the fact that Leon spoke quietly enough that his staff couldn't hear them. "No," he answered, "not really. Not today."

"Are you sure about that?" Leon inquired, soft and kind. "Wouldn't it be easier to know what's going on? You could just be worrying about nothing."

Gwaine looked back at him, serious and unflinching. This was just something he was going to have to get used to, the fact that he and Merlin weren't going to be anything real, ever. "It's over, Leon. Relationships end. I'll deal with it." He made himself smile, because pretending he was fine with it was the first step to being fine with it, and changed the subject. "I wanted to thank you, anyway, for sending dinner in for me the last couple of days. Haven't exactly felt like coming in here and being sociable."

It was only at the end of his sentence that Gwaine noticed Leon's confused frown. "I didn't," he said slowly. "Who said I did?"

"Your oh-so-essential sous-chef," Gwaine replied, confused. Clearly, Richard had lied about being sent with the food, but what Gwaine didn't understand was why.

Leon nodded, then grimaced. "Sorry," he murmured. " Probably not someone you want to be seeing right now, huh?"

"No, it's fine," Gwaine answered, finding as he did so that it was. The guy was fairly unobtrusive, after all, and it seemed that not only had he come up with the idea of bringing food for his boss without being prompted, he was brave enough to carry it out even when Gwaine was being an irritable git. Although that thought sort of meant that Gwaine couldn't justify being quite so rude to him anymore, but he could live with that, probably. "I take it it was his cooking, as well?"

"Well, seeing as I didn't even know he was doing it..." Leon began, then trailed off, sympathetic again. "I'll tell him not to do it again tonight, don't worry."

"Nah, don't bother," Gwaine answered. "I'll come and get something this evening, anyway. Is there anything going that I can have now?"

Leon smiled at him, possibly a little confused, but left him where he was to rummage in the fridge, plating up some salad and a slice of pork pie. "Here," he said, pressing it into Gwaine's hands. "You eating in here or going back to sulking in your office again?"

"Office, I think," Gwaine shrugged, because he'd had quite enough of being sociable for the day, even if Leon's question had only been friendly teasing. "Thanks, mate." He turned to leave, grabbing a clean glass and filling it with water on his way out.

"Oh," Leon called, just before Gwaine was out of hearing range. "Hang on a minute," he said, and Gwaine stopped, holding the door open, head tilted in question. "Morgana told me to ask you what Merlin said to you."

"What?" Gwaine answered, not liking the mention of Merlin after...well, everything. "Nothing, really." It sounded worryingly defensive, that, and Gwaine had no idea why, because he hadn't done anything wrong. He elaborated a little, bending the truth for reasons unknown; he didn't owe anything to Merlin, and there was no reason for him not to just tell Leon what had happened, but for the fact that he didn't want to. Shame, mostly, because he didn't really want to add to having told Leon he'd been played by saying that it was by one of Leon's friends. "Asked how I knew you. Why?"

"He's been down since that evening, Arthur told Morgana. They're worrying, so I promised to ask."

Gwaine told himself not to feel bad about that, even if Leon looked just a little worried as well. "Nope, he didn't say anything like that to me," he answered honestly; even though it was maybe his silence that Merlin was _down_ because of, it wasn't like Gwaine was happy himself. "Surely if there was anything bothering him, he'd talk to his boyfriend rather a complete stranger, anyway."

And that sentence sounded a whole lot more bitter than it had any right to, Gwaine thought, and decided to exit very quickly before Leon could say whatever words he had brewing behind his frown.

X

In Tesco that evening – Gwaine preferred Sainsbury's, but it was further away from his home, after eleven at night, and he only wanted a couple of pints of milk – he got another call. Lulled into a false sense of security by the afternoon without calls from Merlin, he glanced only briefly at the display before answering it.

"Hello, this is Gwaine," he said, wondering tiredly who called at that time of night.

"Oh thank God, Gwaine, I-"

Gwaine got a lot less tired very quickly, startled into something like wakefulness as he hit the end call button on his phone. He was startled even further when a young woman pushing a trolley smacked right into him, but then he had stopped short halfway down the aisle of fridges to stare at his recent calls log. He waved away her apologies, offering one of his own as he stepped to the side so as not to obstruct any of the very few other shoppers and continued his focused examination of his phone.

Because no, he hadn't been wrong; it wasn't Merlin's number, his phone said. It was a landline, actually, and so – Gwaine assumed, given the time – probably his home number.

Well, apparently Merlin hadn't given up trying to get hold of him, and his new plan was going to make avoiding him a whole lot harder.

X

"Gwaine, will you just-"

X

"I promise, I can expl-"

X

"It's not wha-"

X

"Please, I-"

X

By Saturday afternoon, Gwaine had named twelve phone numbers with nothing more than the word _no_, a mix of landlines and mobiles. Merlin's persistence was truly incredible, as well as irritating and awful when Gwaine was working so very hard to convince himself that he wanted nothing more than to pretend he'd never met the man.

The calls followed something close to the pattern they'd had on Tuesday: a cluster in the morning before half eight and a generous handful between twelve and one. Gwaine figured Merlin was borrowing phones from random strangers, because he didn't imagine he had access to that many phones himself and his friends were probably at work, given that it was the middle of the day.

It was annoying, more than it had been in the days before, because he actually had to answer each time he got a call, on the off chance that it was someone he should talk to. The fact that he was avoiding the kitchen – Leon had looked at him oddly the evening before when he'd gone into the kitchen for dinner, and had seemed on the verge of saying one of those very important things that no one actually wanted to hear before Gwaine had disappeared again – didn't help matters, because he had nothing to focus on beyond the calls from Merlin and the work he ought to be doing.

He tried, he did, but when his phone was ringing so frequently and his computer was dealing him one unwinnable game of cards after another, he just wasn't in the mood for it.

X

Richard didn't even bother to knock that evening when he bought Gwaine a meal, but then perhaps he'd heard the long stream of expletives Gwaine was directing at his phone from the hallway and decided Gwaine probably wouldn't have heard it if he had. The swear words had started off muttered under his breath, but then they had also started three calls and half an hour ago, and slightly loud swearing was maybe justified, Gwaine hoped.

"Do you think you should get that, sir?" Richard asked, putting the plate down in the same place as before, and a glass of whiskey next to it.

Gwaine glanced at the display on his phone, grimaced, and picked up the glass. "What's this, then?"

"A drink. Leon thought you could do with one."

"Did he, now?" Gwaine replied, dragging the question out as sarcastically as possible, because he was pretty damn sure that the answer was no. "The same why he asked you to bring me dinner on Thursday and Friday, right?" His phone fell silent, and Gwaine failed to keep his relieved sigh silent.

Richard had the good manners to look ashamed – or something like it, anyway, because Gwaine didn't think he was capable of shame – as he twisted his hands together and refused to make eye contact. "Sorry, sir. I didn't think you'd accept it if you knew it was from me."

"Hmm," Gwaine murmured, sort of agreeing, because, yeah, he wouldn't have willingly eaten anything from him, particularly after Merlin. Which didn't make it okay, not by a long shot, but it was maybe understandable. "Lie to me again and you're fired, got it?"

That got a swift nod in response, and Richard opened his mouth to say something when Gwaine's phone started up again. Gwaine glared, began another string of expletives, and then cut himself short when a better idea appeared. Sure, Merlin kept calling, and Gwaine had to keep answering just in case it wasn't Merlin, but having a different person answer the phone would probably deter Merlin at least for a little while. "Get that, would you?" he said, shoving the irritating thing at Richard.

"Sir, I don't think that's right," he replied, refusing to take it with a startled shake of his head.

"I'm your boss, aren't I?" Gwaine snapped, and maybe he felt a little bad for that. He had only just threatened to sack the guy, after all, and it wasn't exactly in his job description to answer phones, but another sentence from Merlin and something was going to break. "Just answer the fucking thing, please, and offer to take a message."

Richard's nod this time was much slower, but he took the phone anyway, frowning. "This is Gwaine's phone. He's a little busy right now, can I take a message?" He waited, the phone held to his ear for a few moments, then looked at the screen. "There's no one there," he said, handing Gwaine's phone back to him.

"Oh, there was," Gwaine answered, but smiled, putting his phone down on his desk. That should effectively win him a little bit of silence at any rate, and maybe if Merlin got completely the wrong impression he'd quit altogether. "Thank you, Richard. You can go now."

X

"Look," Gwaine growled, picking up his phone for the fifteenth time – Goddamnit, where was Merlin getting all the phones from? – on Sunday, without giving Merlin a chance to say anything first. "The fact that I keep hanging up on you each time you call should probably tell you something, but seeing as you're clearly not getting it I'll make it clearer. Fuck off, because I do not want to talk to you."

"Gwaine Lothian, wash your mouth out with soap!"

_Shit_. "Mam!" Gwaine exclaimed. "Damn, I'm sorry. I swear, I don't usually answer the phone like that."

"I should hope not!" his mother replied, although her outrage sounded more humorous than genuine. "Do you want to explain why you did so today?"

Not massively, Gwaine thought, but he knew his mother well enough that that wasn't really an option. "An ex," he said simply, although he sort of thought it was anything but. "One who has difficulty working out the 'ex' part of things. I've been getting calls from random numbers, and seeing as it wasn't going to be a work-related call today, I assumed..."

"Ah," she agreed, like that made perfect sense, and given that she'd pretty much raised him and his brothers singlehandedly while their dad worked, it probably did. "I have a new phone, and I thought I'd ring up for a chat rather than just send you the new number."

Gwaine smiled, sitting back more comfortably on his sofa; his mum didn't call him all that often, but when she did the conversation tended not to be a short one, which was probably why she'd left it until after he got home. "Okay, then. What's happened with you since the last time we spoke?"

X

There was a soft tap at Gwaine's office door at Monday lunchtime, entirely lacking the assurance present in Leon's knocks; this was clearly one of the actual underlings, and Gwaine made an attempt at looking suitably busy, minimising his game of solitaire and reopening the spreadsheet he'd been looking at earlier. "Come in," he called, and the door was opened just as timidly as the knocking had been.

One of the girls – Mel, her nametag said, saving Gwaine the trouble of asking – who had been crying the day after Gwaine had missed an evening of work walked in, head down and strands of dark hair falling into her face. "Someone wants to talk to you, sir," she said hesitantly, then burst into slightly desperate babble. "A customer, but I swear I didn't do anything. The food was right, I promise, and I know it was hot enough because I nearly burnt myself carrying it and it didn't take ages and I was polite and I swear I didn't do anything wrong."

Gwaine blinked at her for a moment, trying to make sense of her words, given the speed at which they were expelled. "Can you explain to me what happened, then? It's not that I don't believe you, but I'd like to know what I'm walking into." He smiled, in the hope that she'd accept his words at face value, even if it was his experience that customers rarely asked to speak to the manager if there wasn't some sort of problem with either the service or their food.

"Um, well," she began, a little slower than before. "I went to collect their plates – it's these two guys, not exactly young, maybe your age – and ask if they wanted anything else, desert or coffee, like you're supposed to, and one of them said no, but he'd like to speak to my manager. And the other one was all, 'what are you doing? She hasn't done anything wrong,' but the first one insisted that I come and get you so I left them arguing about it and...yeah."

Okay, unflattering ideas about his age aside (there was no way he was even a decade older than this girl, and he was trying very hard not to be offended), that didn't sound too terrible. He'd go out there, see what the problem was – probably not anything massive, if only one of them had thought it was an issue – then be very apologetic; it'd all be fine, and he could go back to anticipating the next step in Merlin's plans to get his attention (the calls had stopped again, but Gwaine wasn't sure that that was the end of it). "Right, let's go see what this is about, then," he said, offering her a comforting pat on the shoulder (because even if she had majorly cocked up – and he was reasonably sure she hadn't – he couldn't afford to lose anymore waitresses). He made his way down the hallway from his office to the seating area, Mel following, then peered around the edge of the door to see if he could guess who it was that wanted to talk to him.

A single look explained everything all on its own, it really did. "Let me guess?" Gwaine asked. "The guy who wanted to talk to me? Dark hair, ears, cheekbones..."

"...And eyes so blue you can drown in them," she finished, and Gwaine felt inordinately proud of conquering his wish to mime gagging. Not a phrase he would have used, _ever_, but perhaps to the average romantically inclined teenage girl it worked. "Yeah, at the table with the sort of scruffy one."

"Hmm. Tell him I don't want to talk to him." Gwaine held the door open for her, careful to stay out of sight.

Mel looked at him in confusion. "Sir, I'm not..." she looked at him apologetically, but made some sort of an attempt at braving on. "Is that...?"

"No," he agreed, because sending a waitress over to tell a customer the manager didn't want to speak to them didn't sent out a good message to the other customers, even if it was only that one specific customer Gwaine wasn't too keen on talking to. "No, sorry. Give him my apologies, but tell him I'm currently weighed down with work. However, if he can tell you of a legitimate concern about the food or the service, I'll willingly discuss it with him."

She frowned at him – clearly his attempt at looking busy when she entered his office had failed miserably – but nodded. "Yes, sir," she agreed; sometimes Gwaine really appreciated being the one in charge, particularly when it meant no one questioned his orders, even the less defensible ones.

Gwaine watched as she made her way over to Merlin and Will's table. "I'm sorry," he heard her say, "Mr Lothian is currently very busy, so he can't come speak to customers personally unless they have a definite problem to raise about the food or the service. Would you like to do so?" Her ability to make his clumsy excuse sound reasonable was actually quite impressive, and Gwaine was pleased to note that her inability to sound confident in the face of authority clearly didn't extend to customers.

Merlin looked at her for a moment, while Will's gaze moved between the two of them, clearly having no idea what was going on; Gwaine wondered what Merlin had told him to get him to visit the restaurant, because he was betting it wasn't the truth. "That's interesting," Merlin answered. "You and I and he all know I don't have anything to complain about, don't we? But I'm betting he still came to take a look at who it was that wanted to talk to him, didn't he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mel replied, proving herself remarkably dedicated to holding up Gwaine's lie, even if she didn't know why he wanted her to.

"I'm sure you don't," Merlin told her, and Gwaine wondered if it was just the distance that made him look sad. "Just tell him I...tell him I'm sorry, and that if he hasn't called me back by this evening I'll have got the message. Now if we could have the bill, please?"

Due to his vantage point, Gwaine couldn't see the expression on Mel's face, but his money was on 'surprised', given the steady nod she gave and the slight stumble before her words. "Certainly, sir. I'll just go get it, and I'll tell him after that."

"I'm sure he heard it for himself," Merlin said, his face twisting into something that in the right circumstances might pass as a grin but in that moment just looked worn down. If Merlin had looked in his direction, Gwaine would have felt the need to hide, but he didn't, even though he must have known where he was listening from because it was the same door the waitress just walked through and it was still open a little. "Thanks anyway."

Gwaine stood a moment longer, listening to Will's low entreaties for Merlin to explain what the hell was going in and Merlin's calm refusal, stating that it was nothing to worry about even as he chewed on his bottom lip. And maybe he felt a little bad about cutting Merlin out of his life without waiting for an explanation, but it wasn't like he'd taken a wild leap of logic and drawn ridiculous conclusions from it. Conclusions were there already; it had just taken him a stupidly long time to reach them.

It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong, really. He might have ignored all of Merlin's calls, but he hadn't deleted the messages he'd left. Not that he'd listened to them, either, but he'd kept them, and ignored the little voice that had told him to change his phone number even though he didn't know why he'd ignored it.

He liked Merlin – more than he really should after such a short space of time – and that was sort of the problem. He and Merlin had only briefly talked about a being a couple, hadn't planned anything further ahead than a couple of days, and God only knew that Merlin hadn't told him anything real. Gwaine liked him anyway, but he didn't do open relationships (or relationships at all, not too often), and he didn't want to be seeing someone who was in one. Assuming that Merlin and Arthur were even in an open relationship (the whole calling friends for an alibi thing sort of suggested otherwise), otherwise Merlin was just cheating and...yeah, that wasn't what Gwaine wanted, at all.

But Merlin actually looked upset, which Gwaine would never have expected. He didn't really think Merlin had any real level of liking for him, had sort of wondered if Merlin was only going out with him because he wasn't ready to leave without getting what he wanted. It had felt a little like he was blackmailing Merlin into seeing him and whilst he knew that wasn't exactly on the up and up, Merlin didn't have to go along with it.

And maybe he wasn't, Gwaine let himself imagine, for the first time in almost a week. Maybe there was something else going on, and he had seriously misread things. Merlin was awfully persistent for someone who just wanted a fling, something to distract him from the tedium of a monogamous relationship, and...Gwaine really wanted to believe that, which was why he hadn't let himself think it. Only now he was, and he couldn't stop thinking it once he'd started.

He was just going to listen to Merlin's messages, he told himself. He didn't have to do anything once he had, and he wasn't going to be an idiot and get his hopes up. He'd listen, and then decide whether or not to call.

X

The vast majority of Merlin's voicemails and texts were along the same lines: an apology, a _will you just call me, please?_, and a promise that things weren't what they looked like. Dull, prosaic, and – after horror flicks at nine am and laser tag as a second date – decidedly unconvincing. There were very few that held Gwaine's interest, the ones that actually had a personality to them beyond apologeticness, and of those only one was particularly impressive.

"Well, fine," began the last message Merlin left before attempting to see him in person, his voice heated and bitter as black coffee. "Don't answer. It's not like I actually want a relationship, anyway. Why should I care if you don't want to speak to me? We don't even know each other, so I haven't lost anything, have I?" Gwaine thought that was the end of it, and was about to hit the button to end the ridiculously long call he'd just made to his voicemail box when he heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a much longer exhalation. Merlin's was calmer – or less angry, at least, because calm wasn't really the right word for it given the level of sheer emotion thrumming through Merlin's voice – when he spoke again. "Goddamnit, Gwaine, it feels like I've lost something."

X

It didn't take as much thought as it should have done.

It didn't take any thought, actually, and that was sort of the problem. He wanted to speak to Merlin again, had done at least a little since the morning after that night, and that Merlin was so very insistent...

Gwaine was already pretending that there might be some other explanation. What more hurt could it possibly cause him to allow Merlin the chance to give it?

X

Merlin answered so quickly that Gwaine figured he'd been sitting with his phone pretty much in his hand for the two and a half hours since he had left the restaurant. "Thank you," he said immediately. "Really, thank you."

"Don't," Gwaine made himself say. "I'm giving you a chance to explain; it doesn't mean we're okay."

"I know," Merlin agreed, barely letting Gwaine finish his sentence before rushing in. "Can I come talk to you properly instead of over the phone, please?"

Gwaine stayed silent a long moment, trying to weigh up the pros and cons of saying yes. If he agreed, he'd have Merlin in the restaurant within almost no time, giving the explanation Gwaine wasn't even entirely sure he wanted to hear. Merlin would be there in front of him, and Gwaine would be able to see if he was lying – maybe, because he hadn't exactly done well at reading Merlin in the past – before making a decision. He would actually have to see Merlin, though, and he wasn't sure about that, wasn't sure he could see him without getting angry. But then maybe a making a decision over the phone wasn't fair, and it probably wouldn't be the right one, when he couldn't see for himself what questions Merlin didn't want to answer, what points he should be pressing in order to get as much honesty as he could out of Merlin.

"I'll be at the restaurant until about eleven," Gwaine told him, sighing.

Merlin's relief was audible in his reply. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he promised.

Gwaine tried to suppress the nervous anticipation flooding through his stomach as he hung up his phone without answering him.


	8. Fidelity

**Title: **We Are Young  
><strong>Author: <strong>Peach  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, confusion, bullshit stories that may or may not be true, sexual situations, and a very ill-timed conversation about fish.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Merlin isn't mine, nor I am Regina Spektor, whose song _Fidelity_ is the title for this chapter (because, despite all I had thought about how this one was going to go, it seemed far more fitting than anything else I'd intended).  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Yeah, I know. Very nearly two months, right? Sorry. I've been absurdly busy with real life thing lately, although I should have more time from now on. Next one is fairly short, and will be up in either two or three weeks, depending on how writing the next chapter of _Hunger_ goes. Pretty please leave me reviews and let me know I'm forgiven for the massive wait? And, you know, comments on this one, if at all possible. Love, Peach.

**We Are Young  
><strong>

**Chapter Eight - Fidelity  
><strong>

Gwaine found Mel in the corridor between the kitchen and the dining area of the restaurant, beckoning her into his office.

"They guy who wanted to see me earlier," he said, pushing the door closed behind them. "He'll be back again in a bit, if you could bring him through here."

Her expression so clearly said that she had no idea why Gwaine didn't just speak to Merlin earlier, but seeing as she didn't say anything about it Gwaine didn't feel obliged to explain at all. "Is he your boyfriend, sir?" she asked after a moment.

"No," Gwaine told her. "Maybe. I thought he was, but..."

"Ah," she said. "I've been there before, sir. I'm sure it'll be okay."

Gwaine smiled, patted her arm gently, and opened the door to show her out again. "Thanks," he said, then added after a moment, "if you could try not to let Leon know he's here, please?"

Again, she gave him another look of non-comprehension. "Of course, sir," she agreed (and there was that appreciation for being the boss again, because it really was nice not to have his orders questioned even when people thought they were mad). "I'll keep an eye out for him."

X

Merlin didn't knock before walking into his office. Somehow, Gwaine wasn't surprised.

"Your waitress pointed me in the right direction," he said hesitantly, pushing the door closed behind him. "She seemed pretty busy with tidying up and stuff, so I told her not to come with me." He stopped, then, standing in the middle of Gwaine's office, twisting his hands into knots, eyes large and a little helpless. Gwaine wondered if the fact that he hadn't got lunch yet meant that Richard might decide to bring him some, and what the chances of him getting a drink with it were, a thought which then led to musing on just how terrible it would be to start keeping a bottle in his desk. Locked away, of course, and only to be drunk when desperate times were calling, but...no, it probably wasn't a good idea.

"I'm not sleeping with Arthur. I never have, except in the most literal sense of the phrase, and I never will."

On the other hand, everyone needed a drink on occasion, and if his occasions came a little more frequently than some people's, it didn't make him an alcoholic. It just made him thirsty, and right now he was pretty much parched.

"Yeah, you can understand why that sounds like a lie, can't you?" Gwaine asked.

"I know it looks bad," Merlin states, "but-"

"'Looks bad', Merlin? 'Looks bad'?" Gwaine stood, because yeah, Merlin looked all kinds of fidgety and uncomfortable standing there, but Gwaine wasn't exactly cool with the complete absence of anything even close to being on eye level with him, and he wasn't ready to tell Merlin to sit. "Looking bad, Merlin, was when you pretended you didn't know me. Looking bad was Arthur being in near-constant contact with you and treating you like his personal servant. Looking bad was Lance saying that Arthur loves you. What this looks like is you agreeing to date me and then going home and blowing another man in the shower. It's just a little bit more than _looking bad_, don't you think?"

He paused, telling himself not to feel bad for the way Merlin flinched and hunched his shoulders (he held Gwaine's eyes anyway, though, and Gwaine added a second mental instruction about not being impressed by that). "But hey," he added, cursing himself for the blindness that meant he hadn't work out the meaning of something Merlin had said to him earlier, "_sometimes there are circumstances. Maybe you really like both of us, or something_."

"What does that mean?" Merlin asked, clearly confused, and that might possibly be hurt, too, on his face, most likely the result of Gwaine's tone. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"Well, you're the one who said it," Gwaine snapped back at him. "I told you about Dick messing around with my waitresses, and-"

"You call him that?" Merlin interrupted, then visibly thought better of it, trying to change his reaction slightly. "I mean, it's your restaurant, so it's not...you can't call him that."

"It's his name. Take it up with his parents, not me. And, in case you hadn't noticed, that isn't the point here. Circumstances. What are they, seeing as you said you wanted to explain?" God, this was such a bad idea, because Gwaine was more than aware that he was just a little too angry about all this, just a little too invested in his non-relationship with a near-stranger, and he'd have preferred it if Merlin hadn't know that too.

"I wasn't talking about me," Merlin answered, actually having the nerve to sound genuinely offended. "I was talking about-about a friend, and there-"

"If you're going to make shit up, Merlin, don't go with the 'a friend of mine' line. I'm not buying it."

Gwaine watched as Merlin took a deep breath, hands clenched on the back of one of the chairs at the other side of his desk. "Fine, then. Gwen cheated on Arthur with Lance, and neither of them has forgiven themselves for it, despite the fact that it was years ago and, yes, there were circumstances. It doesn't make what she did right, but it makes it understandable. But as you said just seconds ago, that isn't the point here." He took another breath, this one seeming to do a lot more to calm him than the previous one, the slight flare of his nostrils vanishing along with the tenseness of his shoulders. "The thing about the shower was a joke."

"And a very funny one it was too," Gwaine muttered, because staying irrationally angry when Merlin no longer appeared seriously defensive made him feel like an idiot. "Well done."

"I've never lied to you, Gwaine," Merlin told him earnestly. "You know I haven't told you everything, not even close, but I'm not lying. I do know what all this sounds like, but please, can I sit down and explain?"

Gwaine stared at him for a long moment, thinking. Merlin's _not everything_ was pretty much the same as nothing, and Gwaine was fairly sure he could count the facts that Merlin had actually told him on both hands, possibly just one. But he was equally sure that up until this evening Merlin had carefully walked the very fine line between omission and outright untruth. And just letting him be here was a sign that Gwaine was clearly hoping for some other finished pattern to all the puzzle pieces he'd put together, and what sense did it make not to let Merlin offer it. "Promise me," he said, "that if I listen to your explanation, you'll answer any questions I have?"

"I promise," Merlin agreed, instantly and without question, looking relieved just to be given that much. Gwaine didn't know whether he hadn't thought of the possibility of Gwaine exploiting his promise and asking any of the many things Merlin didn't want him to know, or if he just didn't care about it, but either Merlin's offer of honest answers was seriously convincing or Gwaine was just easily convinced.

He pulled his chair back out and slumped down in it, nodding to the one Merlin had been clinging to earlier. "Explain, then," he instructed as Merlin shrugged his coat off and hung it over the back of his chair before perching on the edge of it, resting his hands on his knees.

X

"I met Arthur at a party, my first night at university," Merlin began, eyes still steady on Gwaine's. "I was a little tipsy, he was wasted enough to make out with me without realising I was a bloke." Gwaine blinked, tried not to laugh at the possibility of anyone being that drunk (sure, Merlin was kind of delicate, but he wasn't exactly curvy), and swallowed down a comment about the fact that neither Merlin nor Arthur drank, because part of letting Merlin explain probably meant no interruptions. "The morning after, I bumped into him in the kitchen of my flat in halls, made a slightly awkward joke, and he acted like he had no clue what I was talking about."

"Wanker," Gwaine muttered, sort of sympathetic (and, you know, he'd kind of wanted to call Arthur something unpleasant since he'd laid eyes on him).

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Merlin agreed with a low chuckle, apparently unoffended by Gwaine calling his friend (and Gwaine wasn't convinced that was all it was just yet) names. "He was pretty convincing about it, though, to the point where I believed him after a couple of weeks. Best part of a year before he admitted it, after intense questioning following a game of 'I Never' – don't ask, please," he added, presumably guessing Gwaine was about to do just that, "it's not relevant – and he was quite clearly uncomfortable about it. He doesn't have a problem with me liking guys as well as girls, but he doesn't, and he...I think he thought the best way to make sure that the others didn't mock him – not that they would have done, of course, but his mum died when he was tiny and his dad is pretty much a cold-hearted bastard, so he wasn't exactly used to unconditional affection back then – anyway, he figured the easiest way to deal with it was to start the jokes himself. And so it kind of became a...thing."

"'It kind of became a thing'?" Gwaine echoed, because that sentence was a whole lot easier than the entirety of Merlin's story. A plausible story, possibly, if he ignored all the bits of it that Merlin probably wasn't telling him, but it wasn't like Arthur and Elyan's shower comment was the only thing bugging him now that he was thinking about it.

Merlin shrugged and shuffled his chair forwards, close enough to put his hands on Gwaine's desk. Gwaine moved his own away, resting them on his legs instead, because contact was a liberty he wasn't quite ready to grant. "It doesn't mean anything. I know how it sounds, but it's just joking. We live together, and neither of us has been in any kind of serious relationship for a while, and jokes get made, but everyone knows it's not true." He fell silent, spreading his hands, palms up in a _your turn_ gesture, and waited.

"It's a good story, Merlin," Gwaine told him, because that it was. He just wasn't sure it was good enough.

"But?" Merlin asked. "I know there's a _but_ coming up."

"But you lied, Merlin, amongst other things," Gwaine answered, shaking his head when Merlin opened his mouth to deny it. "Not to me, if what you said is true, but to everyone else. You told them all you didn't know me, and I know you said it's because they're overprotective, but...And you say he's only your friend, but he phoned before eight in the morning because you didn't come home, and you told him you were at Will's. Not only that, but you went to the effort of calling Will and getting him to lie for you as well, like you thought there was a chance Arthur would care enough to check your alibi or something."

"Arthur worries," Merlin stated, like that was explanation enough. "I...if I'm not going to be home, I call him and tell him."

"Why does he worry?"

Merlin didn't answer immediately, lowering his eyes for the first time during the conversation, just for a moment before he looked back up to meet Gwaine's stare again. "I gave him reason to, a couple of years ago," Merlin said slowly, carefully, his expression the most impossible mix of shame and a fierce refusal to be ashamed. "Arthur doesn't like Will much, but he trusts that if I'm with him nothing awful will happen."

Gwaine nodded, despite the fact that Merlin's words were hardly enlightening, and waited, expecting Merlin to say something more. "I can tell you everything, if you..." he swallowed, turning his hands palms down and clenching them into fists so tight his knuckles practically glowed. "I _will_ tell you everything, when you ask, but...not today. Please, not yet."

Gwaine thought about it, pressing the matter and finding out the _everything_ that Merlin was keeping from him. He considered it quite genuinely, because he wasn't happy with secrets, and Merlin had such a lot of them, it seemed, but..."Stop that," he instructed, reaching out and covering each of Merlin's hands with one of his, carefully loosening Merlin's fingers from their tightly locked fists. "You'll hurt yourself," he said, turning Merlin's hands in his and brushing the pads of his thumbs over the half-moon indentations in his palms.

"Lancelot said that Arthur loves you," he tried instead; the reason Arthur worried so much about Merlin, and what Merlin thought he did to make him worry probably wasn't relevant, and Gwaine wasn't going to push Merlin into answering just to satisfy his curiosity when Merlin was clearly distressed by his questions.

"_Lance_ talks like that," Merlin answered, shoulders slumping with relief. "Arthur is the closest thing I have to a brother, and any love he has for me is purely fraternal."

"And Will?" he asked, possibly accepting that explanation. "How often does he lie for you?"

"That was the only time," Merlin said, looking down at their hands again; Gwaine still had his resting under Merlin's, thumbs now tracing over the lines of his palms without really paying attention to what he was doing. His attention drawn to it, Gwaine went to pull his back, but Merlin stopped him, not holding tightly enough that he couldn't free himself if he really wanted to, but holding nonetheless, and Gwaine allowed it. "I haven't stayed out all night in a while, and the first time I did Arthur's reaction was enough that I've always warned him if there was even the slightest chance of me not coming back before midnight. I hadn't been planning on it that night, and was too baffled by you sending me to sleep in the spare room to remember to let him know."

"And where does Arthur think you are today?" Gwaine found the words coming out before he could think about them properly. It sounded an awful lot like he'd accepted Merlin's explanation, despite his best intentions to think about it impartially rather than with an _I want Merlin _mindset, and it seemed to be an implication Merlin had picked up on.

"I swapped shifts with Will this afternoon. Arthur thinks I'm at the coffee shop until half past six, and then I'm working at the bar from half seven until half eleven. He'll expect me back not much before twelve. Do you want me to tell him not to?" And there was that grin, the one Merlin had worn last time, that sent all the blood rushing far south of Gwaine's brain, lighting up Merlin's face with a level of hope that Gwaine felt bad – not quite terrible, after the past week, but definitely bad – about letting down.

"I don't know," he said, because if Merlin was going to be honest – and Gwaine thought he was, probably, even with the gaps – then he really should be as well. "I like you, Merlin, otherwise I wouldn't have let you come here. I like you more than I should, I think, because I don't know anything about you. There are obviously things you aren't ready to tell me, and I'm not asking, which is clearly just another sign that I like you too much."

Merlin's hands tightened on his then, not painfully, but enough that Gwaine would have actually had to try if he wanted his back. "I like you as well, I really do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"I don't doubt it," Gwaine told him, not lying about that either. "But I should think about it. I need to."

"But-" Merlin began, and okay, yeah, for a skinny bloke he had damn good grip.

"No," Gwaine said, as much to himself as Merlin. He did need to think about it, and be something close to responsible for once in his life, because if was able to get this attached to Merlin in such a short space of time, after secrets and omissions and only three dates, Merlin clearly had the power to hurt him badly if things carried on and Gwaine was wrong about trusting him. "Just give me some time, please, Merlin. I'll call you when I'm ready to make a decision."

Merlin nodded, ducking his head slightly, then let go of Gwaine's hands and smiled. Not the brightest of smiles, but optimistic enough that Gwaine didn't feel he was somehow disappointing him by asking for time. "Okay," he said, standing slowly. "I understand. Thank you for hearing me out."

Gwaine rose as well, watching as Merlin put his coat back on and zipped it up to the neck. "I _will_ call," he repeated, extra force to it, because even if Merlin didn't look like he needed the reassurance all that much Gwaine wanted to give him it. He made his way around his desk and past Merlin, opening the door for him and checking in both directions.

"I know," Merlin said, adding, "thanks," and brushing Gwaine's arm gently as he walked out.

X

Thinking about it, Gwaine thought, went well. For the first ten minutes, anyway, which was how long it took him to realise the only thing he was actually thinking about was how painfully sincere Merlin had looked throughout his entire explanation.

But really, what were his opinions? Either he called Merlin and said, _yeah, when do you want to meet up again?_ or he called and said,_ no, I'm sorry, I don't..._what? Didn't believe him, didn't trust him, didn't want him? The last was clearly a lie, with his behaviour over the last six days acting as clear evidence to it, and Merlin wouldn't buy it anyway. As for believing him...Gwaine kind of did.

It was stupid, maybe, that all Merlin had to do to have him eating out of his hand was spin a story. No, there wasn't anything _maybe_ about it. Gwaine was an idiot, probably, and so very easy to manipulate (if it was a lie, at least; if it was true he was just easily convinced instead, and that wasn't a whole lot better), but really, what were the risks of saying yes to Merlin? Sure, he'd probably only end up falling further, and if Merlin did turn out to be lying about he and Arthur it would hurt someone horribly, quite possibly both of them, but then there were plenty of other ways Merlin could hurt him even if this thing turned out to be the truth.

And he'd had fun with Merlin up until Tuesday evening last week, and wouldn't have any less fun if he carried on dating him, whereas not being with him would be...not fun. He'd move on with time, Gwaine didn't doubt that, but why should he do something that would hurt him if he didn't have to? And yeah, if Merlin was with Arthur then Gwaine was the bastard Merlin was cheating on him with, not merely an ignorant third party but an active and fully aware participant in Merlin's act of betrayal. He would be just as guilty if that was the case, and...and he didn't know why that thought wasn't bothering him more.

And, really, thinking about it was mostly turning out to be hugely unnecessary, if Gwaine was totally honest with himself (and he did try to be, at least some of the time), because his mind had been pretty much made up since the moment he'd seen Merlin in his restaurant at lunchtime.

X

Except, of course, by the time Gwaine had convinced himself that it was okay to call Merlin as he so very desperately wanted to, it was just after eight and Merlin's phone was off.

He spent a good few minutes wondering if it was some twisted attempt at revenge, given how many times Gwaine had turned his phone off on him, before remembering firstly that Merlin was at work and secondly that Merlin had put far too much effort into getting hold of Gwaine just to mess with him like that.

He didn't leave a message, but instead chose to call far too frequently for the next hour in the vain hope that one of his attempts would coincide with Merlin's break. It didn't happen, and Merlin didn't call him at any point in between his many, many calls, leaving Gwaine with option number two, which was either an excellent idea or a really terrible one.

And, as it just so happened, the only way to find out which it was was to give it a go; a good thing, too, because Gwaine had looked far too much before leaping today.

That decided, Gwaine made his way into the kitchen to see what food he could get, determined not to spend the next hour and a half until closing time looking at the clock. He failed, but then he hadn't really been expecting to succeed.

X

Merlin didn't notice him immediately, which left Gwaine free to lurk in some out of the way shadows an observe him – not too out of the way, though, because while it was a perfectly decent place Merlin worked in and only a Monday, it was still just after eleven at night, the music was fairly loud, and Gwaine would much rather eye-stalk (possibly actually stalk, but then it wasn't like Merlin hadn't shown up at his place of work without invitation earlier in the day) Merlin than interrupt other people's amorous happenings. Merlin looked distinctly like his mind was elsewhere as he pulled pints and mixed drinks with what seemed a remarkable level of competence, although seeing as he only had to carry glasses a couple of paces rather than the whole way across a room Gwaine was maybe misjudging things.

The moment he stepped close enough for Merlin to notice him was immediately apparent, punctuated as it was by a widening of Merlin's eyes and an exclaimed, "oh bugger, I'm so sorry," as Merlin put the pint he'd just pulled down on the bar with slightly more force than necessary, splashing a little on the hand of the guy reaching for it.

"No worries, mate," the guy replied in a mildly sloshed way, taking the cloth Merlin handed to him then moving away from the bar with his drink in one hand and a casual arm over the shoulders of the girl beside him.

Gwaine glanced at his watch – still a good fifteen minutes before Merlin was off – and took advantage of the temporary lull in customers to amble over to Merlin and lean his elbows on the bar. "Pint of Smiths, please," he said, flicking his eyes quickly over the labels on the taps and digging his wallet out of his pocket. "Fancy seeing you here," he joked.

"Fancy," Merlin replied, expression approximating a smile, and waved away Gwaine's cash. "It's on me; I still owe you a drink." He put Gwaine's glass down with exaggerated care, then glanced down the bar in both directions for any sign of thirsty patrons before slumping down opposite Gwaine. "This isn't a phone call," he murmured softly, leaning closer than would be proper if Gwaine was merely a customer.

"No, I suppose it isn't," Gwaine agreed, voice just as soft, then pulled back slightly and cleared his throat (if he was in the habit of feeling embarrassment, he might have done so then, but it just wasn't his thing). "You might have a couple of missed calls, though." He took a long gulp of his beer to hide the slight hitch to his voice, and offered Merlin his best _want to get out of here?_ smile.

Unfortunately, Merlin didn't seem to be buying his bullshit, because he went on to ask precisely what Gwaine didn't want him to ask. "And how many is a couple?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping in our case it would be just us two." Because if bullshitting wasn't going to work, changing the subject might, particularly if it was a subject that – he hoped – Merlin would be pleased by.

Sure enough, Merlin grinned at him – God, he loved Merlin's grins – and leaned even further across the bar, pressing a very quick and slightly sloppy kiss to Gwaine's cheek before pulling back to a far more respectable distance. "Unless you happen to have someone else hidden away somewhere who happens to be more interesting than I am, I reckon just us sounds good." It had all the necessary components for a joke, from words to tone to cocksure grin, but somehow Gwaine wasn't quite convinced, which was why his reply had slightly more sincerity to it than he'd maybe intended.

"Merlin, mate, I'm pretty sure there's no one more interesting than you. You're stuck with me, at least until I learn a few of your secrets." And that, apparently, wasn't the best of ideas, because much as Gwaine's first sentence made Merlin's smile brighten, the second had him flinching slightly. It was subtle, sure, but it was definitely still a flinch, and Gwaine was pretty sure Merlin wasn't hiding anything particularly dreadful but it seemed he wasn't all that big on Gwaine knowing much of anything anyway, and, God, his adoration for the whole Mr Mysterious routine was bordering on masochistic.

And, obviously, Gwaine said none of that.

"Drink your beer," Merlin instructed, apparently deciding to ignore both Gwaine's words and his own reaction to them, "I'm done here in about ten minutes, and it'd be such a shame for me to get to your house and find you not there."

"Presumptuous much," Gwaine smirked between mouthfuls of his drink, aiming for light-hearted even as anticipation coiled warm in the pit of his stomach.

"Says the guy showing up at my workplace."

"Says the guy who showed up at mine first," Gwaine countered.

Merlin nodded his acceptance of Gwaine's point, smile rueful, chinks pinking slightly with the embarrassment Gwaine refused to feel earlier. It was a good look on him, very good, and Gwaine allowed a decent percentage of his brain cells to run away with thoughts of how far he could make Merlin's blush spread. "I have customers to deal with; I'd rather not leave a queue for my replacement to deal with. Back in a few."

He turned, flitting off without giving Gwaine a chance to say goodbye, but then the absence of farewells was something Gwaine was far too rapidly getting used to.

X

By the time Merlin reappeared, this time on his side of the counter and wearing a jacket over his shirt, Gwaine's glass was decidedly empty and he'd had more than a couple of minutes to plan how the rest of his evening was going to go. And, okay, it was technically going to be morning before they got started, let alone finished, but he had always been a late riser and Merlin didn't look at all tired. Plus, it never hurt to have a plan, no matter how open to suggestion he might be.

Merlin leant his back against the bar, propping himself up on his elbows and linking his left hand with Gwaine's as he dug his phone out of his pocket with his right. He turned it on, a brief smirk the only reaction he gave to it loading up the number of missed calls – Gwaine wasn't sure precisely how many it was, but it was a whole lot more than he'd intended to make – he'd received. Gwaine opened his mouth with the intention of explaining, only to be shushed quite firmly by Merlin, who didn't even bother to look away from the screen of his phone as he did so.

Gwaine figured it was sort of okay for him not to care, though, when Merlin put the phone to his ear and held Gwaine's eyes as he spoke into it, loud enough for the person on the other end to hear him over the music in the bar. "Hey, Arthur. Just letting you know I'm not going to be back tonight...yes, Arthur, I'm not a child. You really do worry too much...good_bye_, Arthur...oh, I intend to," he finished, tone so clearly indicating that Arthur had just told him to have fun, an idea Gwaine was very definitely on board with.

"Shall we?" he asked as Merlin put his phone away again, gaze still intent on Gwaine's, and thank God Gwaine didn't bother with discomfort either otherwise he'd be all kind of flustered with those eyes on him.

"We shall," Merlin agreed, allowing Gwaine to lead him from the bar, hands still tangled.

Despite their words, however, neither of them seemed in all that much of a rush to actually go anywhere, pausing every few steps to trade languid, lazy kisses that – in Gwaine's experience – had more in common with _after_ than _before_. It was very definitely pleasant, of course, but unexpected, and Gwaine had to wonder how the rest of the evening was going to go (he had a sneaky suspicion his plans were going to end up vastly awry).

Within a matter of minutes they were outside, however, faced with a rather sudden decrease in temperature, and Gwaine was quite convinced it necessitated an immediate increase in contact. Merlin didn't seem inclined to disagree, either, if his appreciative (and slightly muffled) moan and the way his hands worked their way up inside the back of Gwaine's jacket were any indication. It was still softer than Gwaine might have liked, but then they were still a good drive away from his house, and Merlin's hands clenched in the back of Gwaine's shirt were rumpling it up enough that a strip of Gwaine's back was exposed to the elements.

He pulled himself away with no small level of reluctance, pressing a single close-mouthed kiss to Merlin's lips before extracting Merlin's hands and tugging his shirt back down. "You remember the way back to mine, or do you want me to wait for you?" he asked, making the assumption that Merlin's dangerously old car was hidden in a staff car park somewhere around the back of the building.

"I'm an elephant, me," Merlin replied, and it took Gwaine's kiss-fogged mind a few moments to realise that what seemed to be a complete non-sequitur was less a statement about the size of Merlin's ears than it was an actual answer to his question, namely that Merlin remembered where his house was. "I'll see you there, yeah?"

"I'll show you mine..." Gwaine told him, smirking, and figured his _I'm imagining you naked_ look was enough to finish his statement without his having to do so with words. He stretched up to place a final searing kiss to Merlin's lips before turning his back and making his way to his car, pretty sure he could feel Merlin watching him all the way there.

X

Gwaine arrived home with enough time to park his car in the garage and make his way up to his room to check on the cleanliness thereof. Not too bad, he thought, turning on the bedside lamp rather than the main light to save stumbling around in the dark later on, then scooped up every single article of clothing on his floor and shoved them into the bottom of his wardrobe just for good measure before heading back downstairs to shed his shoes and jacket in the hallway by the front door and wait for Merlin's car to pull up in the driveway.

He had the door open before Merlin was halfway up the path, realising as he did so that his behaviour was bordering on despicably eager. The fluttery feeling in his stomach was very close to nerves, too, which was unsettling in and of itself given how very far he was from a blushing virgin. Merlin baffled him, though, what with the secrets, the almost desperate attempts to get Gwaine to listen to him, the_ I'll tell you everything but please don't ask me_ promises. Gwaine didn't know how to react to it all, and the fact that Merlin didn't drink meant that alcohol, his primary means of dealing with things he didn't comprehend, wasn't really a viable solution.

"Though you had something to show me," Merlin murmured, pressing unnecessarily close to Gwaine as he walked into the house and dropped a backpack on the floor.

"What, here and now?" Gwaine asked, and the thing that resembled nervousness even though that wasn't what it was flickered out of existence just like that. "I have a perfectly serviceable bed upstairs, you know. Besides, I reckon opening the door in the buff might have perturbed the neighbours a little."

"Upstairs," Merlin echoed in a display of single-mindedness Gwaine could more than get on board with, moving just far enough inside for Gwaine to shut and lock the door before crowding in close again. His breath was warm on Gwaine's face as he leant down, and Gwaine surged up to meet him halfway (or something close to it, anyway), losing at least the next minute in a tangle of tongues and the tug of Merlin's fingers in his hair. Merlin didn't seem to be faring a whole lot better, though, given that he took a small step backwards in the direction of the stairs and almost tripped over his own shoelaces. If it hadn't been for Gwaine's fortuitous grasp on his arse, Merlin would have hit the floor pretty hard with Gwaine on top of him, bringing about a decidedly unfun end to the night; Gwaine felt a slight tightening of his grasp and a small kiss-muffled laugh were entirely justified.

"Nice catch," Merlin mumbled, briefly batting Gwaine's hands away and taking a step back in order to toe his shoes off and kick them to the edge of the hallway.

"You're welcome," Gwaine told him, grinning and dodging just out of reach when Merlin moved in for the kill again. "Maybe hold off on the kissing while we climb the stairs, yeah? I'd really prefer it if we could avoid broken necks tonight." Of course, consistency was a whole load of effort that totally wasn't worth it; Gwaine pressed in quickly, barely seconds of lips and tongues and just a tiny edge of teeth, then threaded his fingers through Merlin's and led the way bedroomwards.

Once there, he kicked the door closed behind them and went to work on the buttons of Merlin's shirt, untucking it from the waistband of Merlin's jeans and sliding his hands around Merlin's waist. Merlin's hands roamed with equal enthusiasm, pushing Gwaine's shirt up, fingertips tracing the planes of his stomach so lightly that it bordered on tickling. Gwaine tried not to squirm under his touch, pressing his thigh between Merlin's legs and delighting in the way Merlin's hands lost track of whatever pattern he'd been following as a consequence.

"Shirt," Merlin gasped, pulling the hem up, fingers skittering across Gwaine's chest, and then, inexplicably, added, "my favourite colour is red." Gwaine blinked, not quite baffled but certainly noncomprehending, and raised his arms to allow Merlin to pull his t-shirt up over his head and off. "I don't object to blue, either," Merlin continued, dropping the shirt to the floor behind him and leaning back to run his eyes over Gwaine's torso, following the same route his hands had just taken, his expression so undeniably hungry that Gwaine pretty much forgot about the oddity of his words.

"Your turn," he answered, pushing at the shoulders of Merlin's shirt, only to be utterly distracted by Merlin unbuttoning his jeans and plunging a hand inside, and oh, God, if Gwaine'd though Merlin had nice hands earlier when he'd been holding them in his own, it was nothing to what he thought now.

From there, it was a simple matter of helping Merlin out of his trousers, underwear and socks before pushing him down onto the mattress, Gwaine losing his own jeans somewhere in the process. Merlin lay sprawled on his back, shoulders propped up against the headboard, staring at Gwaine through hooded eyes with unabashed almost-nudity. He smiled, poking his tongue out to moisten his lips, then trailed a hand down his chest and stomach to wrap long fingers around his cock, stroking lazily, eyes locked on the really rather obvious bulge in Gwaine's boxers, and the look on his face...Gwaine wondered how he'd ever managed to think there was anything remotely innocent about Merlin, not when he was capable of looking at someone like that, expression full of unadulterated lust, and tried to decide whether continuing to watch the show Merlin was putting on for him was worth the potential embarrassment of coming in his pants.

And then Merlin's hand drifted lower, brushing briefly across his balls as he settled his legs further apart, licking his lips a second time, and Gwaine found himself on the bed as well, kneeling between Merlin's thighs with little to no idea how he got there or where his boxers ended up (though he'd probably have friction burns later from the speed at which he took them off). Merlin reached up, grabbing Gwaine by his shoulder and pulling him down on top of him until their mouths were touching, no longer bothering with anything close to teasing. Gwaine pressed his hips down, dragging skin across skin, and moved to trail kisses along Merlin's jaw, nuzzling behind his ear before settling his mouth over the fluttering of his pulse, aiming to taste without marking (and, actually, he was kind of impressed he still had the presence of mind to realise that part of being a secret boyfriend probably meant no marks where anyone could see them, even if he had no intention of being secret for all that long) before moving on to other places.

Except, of course, Merlin's neck proved rather more appetising than he'd anticipated, particularly when Merlin moaned with each brush of Gwaine's lips, each swipe of his tongue, when Merlin rolled his hips up in time to each of Gwaine's gentle thrusts down, exhaling soft words that...weren't even close to the sort of things Gwaine was expecting.

"Did..." he started, then cleared his throat, sitting back on his heels before continuing. "Did you just tell me that you don't like fish?"

"Um, yes?" Merlin replied, in the manner of one who believed that no matter how honest an answer they gave, it still wouldn't be quite what was expected. "It's the eyes," he continued, babbling a little, and Gwaine was actually starting to wonder if his entire day had been some sort of hallucination brought on by...well, he had no idea what, but it certainly seemed too odd to be real. "They're all cold and dead and emotionless, and they watch you when you walk past them in the supermarket and...oh, God, you really like fish, don't you, and this is going to be some really weird dealbreaker, isn't it?"

"No," Gwaine said slowly, immeasurably confused. "No, I think the bigger dealbreaker is the fact that you consider this an appropriate time to inform me of your fish phobia."

Merlin looked appalled. "It's not a phobia! It's a perfectly rational dislike."

"That really wasn't the point I was trying to make, Merlin. I mean, I don't want complete silence, but _oh, yeah, like that, just like that_...that's what I expect, with the odd expletive in the mix, maybe. I don't object to people comparing me to some sort of deity or other, either." Gwaine grinned, because it never hurt, even if Merlin was apparently having a mental breakdown. "Food dislikes tend to be mealtime discussions, in my experience." But on the other hand, Merlin had also made mention of favourite colours, and Gwaine thought – when he really put his mind to it – there had been other random facts thrown out there, when their mouths hadn't been otherwise occupied, but his brain had been mostly disengaged.

"I do know how conversation during sex works, you know," Merlin informed him, either ignoring or unaware of the meaning of Gwaine's raised _could have fooled me_ eyebrow. "It was just...earlier, this afternoon, you said you didn't know anything about me, and it's not like these are important facts, but..."

He blinked, eyes skittering away from Gwaine's, all his bravado vanishing into the ether, and Gwaine felt more than a little terrible that that was the first time he'd realised it was _all_ bravado. Not that he hadn't seen flickers of uncertainty at other times, but he'd figured they were the exception rather than something consistent, hidden by attitude and smiles and flirting. And it wasn't that Gwaine doubted that Merlin had experience, or thought that he wouldn't have left without a second thought if they'd slept together the last time they were both in his bedroom, but he wondered now if Merlin would have done so because he actually liked having one-night stands or just because he was hiding insecurities that he didn't want to share with other people.

_Oh_, he wanted to say: _oh, Merlin_, and haul him into a hug. Merlin's face was closing off, though, whatever vulnerability he'd just revealed hidden behind a bright smile, painful in its insincerity, and the stubborn set of his jaw, and there was no way sympathy was the correct response here. "You," he said softly, rising up onto his knees and stretching out a hand to brush his thumb across Merlin's cheek, "are without a doubt the oddest bloke I've ever dated."

Merlin laughed, quiet but genuine, and that, really, was all that Gwaine had been aiming for: it wasn't like he expected to get at all the things Merlin was hiding tonight, but he wanted it to be clear that intended to stick around long enough to. "I'm going to kiss you again," he continued, "and I really think we should leave any attempts at meaningful conversation until breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah," Merlin agreed, stretching up to help Gwaine close the distance between them again. "Make me pancakes again, and I reckon we've got a deal."

X

"I'm hungry," Merlin said quietly on emerging from the bathroom afterwards, hair dishevelled and shirt absurdly wrinkled (but then he hadn't taken it off, so it was really nothing he didn't deserve, and Gwaine might have complained slightly more if the deep red of it hadn't looked quite so good framing Merlin's chest while they'd fucked, if the whisper-soft brush of the cuffs chasing everywhere Merlin's fingers had trailed across his skin hadn't added a whole extra level of sensation to everything).

"Of course you are," Gwaine grumbled without much in the way of displeasure, but then he kind of thought it'd be a while before he managed to muster anything close to actual annoyance what with the way his brain kept replaying the breathless _oh_ Merlin made each time Gwaine angled a thrust just right inside him. He rolled from his bed, taking the washcloth Merlin offered him and wiping himself down quickly before dumping it in the laundry basket and locating his boxers. "Because God forbid you be one of those sensible people who wants to sleep after sex."

"I don't sleep much," Merlin replied, disentangling his own underwear from his trousers and pulling it on before following Gwaine to the kitchen. "Few hours a night is all I usually get. And I've missed a few more meals this week than I really should have."

Gwaine nodded slowly, hoping Merlin would see it as an apology, merited or otherwise, then opened the fridge door and allowed Merlin to view the contents over his shoulder. "Milk," he announced, detailing all the edible things in there with just the one word (and he had his doubts about the milk, too), then tried the freezer. "Pizza? Ice cream?"

"Ice cream sounds good," Merlin answered. "Saves you attempting to cook, given how tired you apparently are." He held his hand out for the tub, then watched, grinning, as Gwaine dug out a pair of spoons from a drawer. "Have to say, you seemed perfectly energetic not half an hour ago."

"Yeah, well. Some of us need to sleep, particularly after bouts of _energeticness_ like that one." Gwaine smirked back at him, grabbing Merlin's arm as he moved to sit at the table. "S'cold down here, and ice cream isn't going to help that." Merlin's nose wrinkled in what Gwaine figured was confusion (and how was that possible, that Merlin couldn't interpret a simple sentence like that after proving just how baffling a maze his mind was earlier on in the night), and instead of explaining, Gwaine just took the hand that wasn't holding the tub of ice cream and led him back to his bedroom, pausing in the hallway to allow Merlin to shoulder his backpack.

Being a polite and gracious host (_hah_, said a voice in his head that sounded worryingly like his mam, but Gwaine told it politely and graciously to shut the fuck up), Gwaine waited for Merlin to decide which side of the bed he'd prefer. Not that it mattered much, since Gwaine was, according to a particularly friendly ex-girlfriend, _a selfish, quilt-stealing, mattress-hogging bastard_ (and that relationship had been one that ended more badly than they usually did, given that the argument lasted long enough for the insults to turn into criticisms of his sleeping habits) and would probably wake up sprawled across both Merlin and the mattress, but it was still only right to offer Merlin first choice.

"Ice cream?" he asked when they were both settled, quilt pulled up to their waists and shoulders pressed together.

"Spoon?" Merlin countered, sticking his hand out and pressing one freezing foot between Gwaine's (which, until that moment, had been comfortably warm).

They ate in content – and, in Gwaine's case, slightly sleepy – silence for a couple of minutes, passing the tub between them, and Gwaine was on the edge of dozing off when Merlin broke it. "Um," Merlin said, back to sounding uncertain again, although nowhere near as much as he'd looked earlier. "Who was the guy?"

"What guy?"

"The one who answered your phone. I mean, it's not as though you...it's not like we...and you thought that I...yeah, I was just wondering, but it's fine, and I'm going to shut up now." Merlin ducked his head and did just that. For all of three seconds, at least, then continued. "I was just, you know, wondering." And then, in a deeply disgruntled tone, "why are you laughing?"

"Because that so wasn't anything like that," Gwaine said, toning down his laughter into a smile that he hoped would offend Merlin slightly less. "Richard, the sous-chef, took it upon himself to make sure I was eating at least one decent meal a day, and I figured making him answer my phone was a suitable punishment. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about there." He paused, then figured that the entire day had been odd enough that a premature confession of something close to emotion probably wouldn't be out of place. "It didn't really occur to me to actually find someone else, not even just for a night."

"Oh," Merlin said. "Oh. Okay then. I didn't, either. I mean, obviously, I didn't, because you know how hard I tried to get hold of you again. It was a little desperate, actually, wasn't I?"

"Maybe a little," Gwaine agreed, taking the ice cream tub back from Merlin and wrinkling his nose on finding it empty. He put it on his bedside table, then yawned and wriggled further down the bed, resting his head on his pillow. "But hey," he amended, fidgeting until he could see Merlin's face, "at least it shows you like me."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it does." Merlin smiled down at him, laughing softly when Gwaine yawned again, jaw-crackingly huge. "Go to sleep, Gwaine," he instructed, fingers threading through Gwaine's hair then just resting there.

"But you-"

"But nothing," Merlin interrupted, with what was probably supposed to be a stern face. "I've got a book in my bag, and I'll sleep eventually. It's just stupid of you to stay up until then, and we can talk in the morning." He glanced at the clock on the wall across the room, then corrected himself. "Later on in the morning, at least."

Gwaine aimed for a second attempt at protesting, yawned a third time, and decided not to bother because he'd only drop off anyway, with or without his brain's consent. "Goodnight, Merlin."

He closed his eyes, lips quirking into a smile at the brush of Merlin's lips on his temple, then dozed off to the gentle weight of Merlin's hand in his hair and the whisper of pages turning.


	9. I Dream of Dreaming Dreams of Her

**Title:** We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> EachPeachPearPlum  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Um. Yeah. Nothing specific but there are very strong hints at what Merlin's biggest secret is, the one that all the other small ones are the result of.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Plot, I'm gonna say is mine. Characters aren't, nor is the song (and the song _is_ this chapter. Only the chorus is here, but I so very seriously recommend you all go find it. It's dazzling, and fits this chapter from beginning to end).  
><strong>Notes:<strong> So, yeah. It's about a week and a half earlier than I said it was going to be, but I am facing what is likely to be a second sleepless night in a row, and so very terrified of tomorrow. I'm in desperate need of love, and failing that, reviews (please?). I know it's only a tiny chapter, and it's in Merlin's point of view, and present tense, and...yeah, please review? Following one will hopefully be in a week and a half, assuming it's done by then, and is back to being Gwaine's story, and past tense, and somewhat less angstful than this one. Until then. Love, Peach.

_I dream of dreaming dreams of her,  
>In twilight she's a constant blur.<br>The picture's clear and I'm still fact, she's fiction._  
><strong>Fact-Fiction<strong>, Mads Langer_  
><em>

**We Are Young  
><strong>

**Chapter Nine - A Brief Interlude: I Dream of Dreaming Dreams of Her**

_Merlin closes the front door and shrugs his coat off, hanging it on its peg, then toes off both trainers and leaves them neatly under the table in the hall, next to Arthur's. Mess in his own space is fine, and on the rare occasions he's braved sticking his head into Arthur's room Merlin has been some combination of awed and horrified (he suspects there are probably things growing in there, but he's really under no obligation to do anything about that suspicion and if Arthur gets eaten by mould one day he'll have no one to blame but himself), but between them they keep the communal spaces as mess-free as possible. He heads to the kitchen to put the kettle on – he has a stack of problems to do before his nine am lecture tomorrow, but a good cup of tea is a necessity before he can even think of getting started –, then to his room to dump his backpack while the water boils._

_The glow that usually fills his room from the streetlight outside is absent today, his curtains firmly closed. He knows that wasn't his doing and clicks on the light, because whilst the illumination from the hallway is enough for him to identify the Freya-shaped lump on his bed, it's not enough for him to see her properly. She is curled up tightly on top of his quilt, her arms wrapped around her head._

_Merlin sits next to her, on the floor rather than on his bed so as to be at eye level with her, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Love?" he asks. "Love, what is it?"_

_She lowers one arm a little, enough for him to see some of her face; her eyes are red rimmed, tears welling up again even as he looks at her. "I'm late," she says, barely more than a whisper, resting a hand low on her abdomen, and the words don't even have time to sink into Merlin's brain before she hides from him again._

"_Late?" he echoes, sounding every bit the idiot Arthur tells him he is. _But we didn't have plans tonight_, he thinks stupidly, then put the words into the context of Freya being upset, of her hurting and unwilling to face him. Late._

Pregnant_._

"_Oh," he manages, finding it a deeply unhelpful response. "Sorry, I mean...Are you sure?" And that question is equally unhelpful, and such a man thing to ask; of course she's sure, Merlin berates himself, otherwise she probably wouldn't be telling him, and mentioning the fact that they've always been careful, safe, won't do any good either, because he knows that nothing is one hundred percent and this is clearly just proof of that._

_Freya rolls away from him, turning her back and muttering, "very sure," under her breath. "I took a test," she adds, slightly louder, turning back to him with something close to defiance in her tone. "I know I should have just taken care of it, but...I shouldn't ask, I know, but...will you come with me?"_

_She juts her chin out, like it doesn't actually matter what his answer is, but Merlin got lost before her request. "_'It'?_" he repeats, and for a smart guy he really can sound stupid sometimes. "Take care of...how late are you, Freya?" He makes himself ask that, instead of any of the things he actually wants to ask – 'it', Freya? How could you think that? How can you have wanted to kill our child without talking to me first? – because accusations are really not going to help right now._

"_Not much," she says. "Three weeks."_

_Three weeks, Merlin thinks, is actually quite a lot. She's at least three weeks pregnant, and she's only just telling him, and this is something he really should have known about before now. "Do you...do you not want to keep our-"_

"_My!" she snaps, sitting up and glaring (he's always found that kind of cute, like an angry kitten, and now is so not a good time to tell her that). "You don't have to be a part of any of this, Merlin. This is _mine._"_

"_What if I want to be?" he asks, voice catching, and she isn't the only one crying now. "It's your choice, and I..." he swallows, takes and breath, and tries to sound calm, because it is _her choice_. "If you want to have an...if you don't want the baby, if this is what you want, I won't argue, but you don't have to."_

"_What I- you have a life, Merlin. You don't need to let this-this _mistake_ ruin it." She puts a hand to her belly with that word, even though it's too soon for anything to be felt there, and all the defensive anger she's trying to put in her tone falters._

"_It won't," he tells her, with so much more certainty than he feels, because they're still so young. They're still students, not much more than children themselves, and Freya's own childhood has left her so damaged, and yet...and yet. "There's nothing in my life that I wouldn't leave behind for you. I want this, if it's what you want." He stands slowly, knowing that he's treating her like the same skittish girl she was when they met, bruised and battered and terrified, and that she hates it when he does that, but he doesn't know how not to right now. "I love you, Freya. I will always love you, and I will love any children we might have, now or years away or never, if you don't want."_

"_You want to have a baby?" she asks, and in her tone are all the arguments he's making in his head, about their youth and their lack of proper jobs and money and a real home and even though he bought her a ring months ago and she knows he did, he still hasn't _asked_, and he's still thinking about all of this, is probably still in shock, but a baby, their baby, his and Freya's baby, and how can he possibly not want it? She extends a hand to him, hesitance in her every move. "You don't mind?"_

"_It isn't a matter of mind, love," he says, taking her hand and letting her pull him in to sit beside her on his bed. "I want you, and this baby, and forever." Merlin puts his free hand over her other one, over the bump that isn't yet but will be, disentangling the other so that he can wrap his arm around her and leaning them back against the headboard. "I want you, forever."_

"_Oh," she murmurs, and her smile is shaky and small and the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Oh. I suppose that's okay, then."_

X

Merlin wakes slowly, reluctantly, crying from the dream, the memory. It's so long since he had one that vivid, has been months, maybe even years, since he saw her face so clearly without having to dig out the photographs Morgana made so much effort to hide from him in those first terrible weeks, hoping to spare him some small measure of hurt. He tries to dash his tears away before Gwaine can wake up and see them, see _him_, but it is too late.

"I didn't know whether to wake you," Gwaine says, and he doesn't necessarily look scared, not exactly, but he's definitely wary, alarmed, and seeing as he's just woken up with Merlin crying in his bed he probably has good reason to be. He shuffles until he's sitting, arranging pillows behind his back, and traces lines along Merlin's arm with his fingertips. "Should I?"

Merlin sits beside him, tugging his shirt until it covers him more thoroughly, checking the cuffs of his sleeves are still in place, hiding as much of himself as he can. He's never hidden who he was – _is_, no matter how much he tries to pretend otherwise, and most likely always will be – before, but then he's never had to. His friends were all there when everything happened (apart from Percival, and Gwen and Lance took care of telling him, without Merlin's permission or knowledge, but then he was hardly in any state of mind to object back than), and there hasn't been anyone since then that Merlin has really cared about what they think. But Gwaine made an effort to know him when it wasn't necessary, when Merlin didn't want him to, and Merlin doesn't want to explain just yet, just as much as he doesn't want to know how Gwaine will react when he doesn't.

"Merlin?" Gwaine asks. "Merlin, are you...?"

"It's...I'm..." Merlin shakes his head, aiming to convey that he's fine, that there's nothing for Gwaine to worry about, but a sob catches in his throat, ruining the effort. It surprises him, after so long spent crying soundlessly.

"It's okay," Gwaine tells him, putting an arm around him and then the second when Merlin turns towards him and presses his face to Gwaine's chest, trying to muffle the sound of his grief. "Whatever it was, it was only a dream. It's okay." His fingers comb through Merlin's hair, soft and comforting, and Merlin feels the gentle brush of Gwaine's beard against his temple and the even gentler press of his lips. "Shh," he says, nothing but kindness. "Shh, it's okay."

_No_, Merlin thinks,_ no, it's not_, but he doesn't say it, and Gwaine doesn't ask. Gwaine doesn't say anything, even as Merlin sobs into his chest, and Merlin feels awful for wondering what is wrong with him, what secrets he's keeping that mean he isn't pushing to find out anything that Merlin isn't telling him. It cannot be that Gwaine is genuinely this unbothered by the fact that Merlin is hiding so much from him, and yet he seems to be. He doesn't ask if Merlin wants to share whatever it is that upsets him, just seems content with whispering words of kindness, holding Merlin close and safe and warm until his tears stop, and Merlin tries to work out all the possible ways Gwaine could be more fucked up than he is, in the hope that it won't come as quite so much of a surprise when he finds out which it is.


	10. Schemes

**Title: **We Are Young  
><strong>Author:<strong> EachPeachPearPlum  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M (and meriting it slightly more than the last but one one did)  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>adult situations, Merlin angsting all over the place, Gwaine being oblivious, Morgana running rampant and refusing to return the narrative to its rightful owner.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Je ne ownest pas Merlin. Aussi, je ne parle pas francais. Which kind of begs the question why my brain wanted to dislaim in French, doesn't it?  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Yeah, not doing so well with punctuality at the moment. Sorry. Also, not entirely sure what happened with this one. Amongst other things, I told Morgana she could have three sentences to introduce her fiendish plan, and she interpreted that to mean two thousand, three hundred and seventeen words to try spill as many key plot details as she could whilst inventing her own version of sign language and single-handedly trying to solve the messy mess that is her friendship group. But never mind that. Quick thank you to _me _for reviewing anonymously (really is an odd sentence to write, that one), and all out begging for everyone reading this one to leave me a comment or two, please.  
>Until next time, Peach<p>

**Chapter Ten - Schemes  
><strong>

Gwaine woke in a sucky mood, but then he did most mornings (largely, he had to say, because it was morning) and the soft whisper of Merlin's breathing beside him on the pillow did a lot to remedy that; Merlin was still there, and even though Gwaine had been expecting him to stay, it was still nice to have it confirmed. He rolled onto his side (because who didn't occasionally enjoy watching their lover sleep like a creepy stalker?) and oh, that wasn't good.

"Merlin?" he said softly, looking at the dampness on Merlin's cheeks and wondering how it was possibly to cry so quietly, wondered what Merlin was dreaming that had the tears flowing thick and fast down his cheeks. And he knew waking sleep walkers was supposed to be a bad idea, but Merlin was just crying, not even thrashing or making noises like it was a nightmare he was in the middle of, and Gwaine didn't like it. He didn't like it yesterday, when it was him that had been hurting Merlin, and he didn't like it any more now, when he didn't know what it was, even though he would have thought not being the cause of Merlin's distress would mean it upset him less.

And to hell with caution, he couldn't stomach watching this. "Merlin," he tried again, louder this time, raising a hand to shake Merlin into wakefulness.

Merlin's eyes flew open before he could do so, wide and...and Gwaine didn't know what, only that he wanted it _gone_. There was nothing he could do, either, beyond asking if Merlin was okay, trying to find out if it was whatever Merlin had been dreaming about that had him crying or if he was physically hurting somehow, even though he'd been fine when Gwaine fell asleep last night.

"It's...I'm..." Merlin gasped out between breaths that were raw and ragged and terrible to hear, so different from the peaceful breathing of his sleep. Because yes, Merlin had been crying then, but it was only on waking that his tears had become painful and loud.

And the sobs...the sobs were awful, to the point where all Gwaine really wanted was to put his hands over his ears and leave them that way until he thought he'd walked far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear them anymore. Wanted to, but wouldn't.

"It's okay," he promised, even though he knew full well that it wasn't, that nothing that ever made anyone this unhappy could ever be okay. He repeated it anyway, mostly for a lack of anything else to say, pressing gentle kisses to Merlin's temple as he stroked his hair and patted his back.

Eventually, Merlin stopped, pulling back and wiping his face with his sleeves, smiling a weak, watery smile. "Sorry," he said softly, dabbing at Gwaine's chest once his cheeks were dry. "I swear, I don't normally wake up crying like a baby."

"Hmm," Gwaine replied, again not sure what else to say. "Merlin, do-do you wanted to talk about it?"

"No," Merlin murmured, moving to sit next to Gwaine rather than in his lap. To Gwaine's surprise, however, he continued. "Just a dream, like you said. About someone I used to know." He grinned, visibly shaking it off. "It's fine, it's nothing."

"Are you sure?" Gwaine asked, because he'd never found himself quite that upset by nothing.

"Yeah," Merlin said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Breakfast?"

"Shower first, maybe?" Gwaine sniffed exaggeratedly, wrinkling his nose, and earned himself a spluttered laugh from Merlin. Merlin nodded and Gwaine, taking that as permission, threw back the quilt from over his legs and stood, walking around the bed. He pressed a quick kiss to Merlin's lips when he looked up at him, considering and dismissing the possibility of asking Merlin to join him; it wasn't, he thought, the sort of morning where one proposed a shared shower. "Of course, if you're starving for lack of breakfast right now, you can go see what you can find in the kitchen," he offered instead, not quite willing to let Merlin be alone just yet.

Merlin eyed him speculatively, but apparently decided to let the teasing stand unanswered. "I'm sure I'll survive until you're done," he told Gwaine, digging his book out from under his pillow and opening it, acting for all the world like Gwaine was no longer there (although, not, if it was possible, in an offensive way).

Gwaine took that as his cue to go, entering the bathroom and pushing the door to behind him, not closing it properly; he wasn't too sure Merlin was alright, whatever he said, and figured leaving the door open a little way would let him keep an eye on Merlin without Merlin knowing he was doing it.

Teeth brushing, he decided on seeing the sink, was a definite necessity, because ice cream followed by however many hours sleep – he'd say at least six, given how well rested he felt, and not much more than seven since his alarm hadn't woken them – had left his mouth feeling almost as unpleasant as the mornings after he'd drunk far too much did.

A minute later, mouth tasting only of minty freshness, Gwaine shucked his boxers and climbed into the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature before standing under the spray. What with the water blocking a fair bit of sound, it was something of a surprise when he turned to pick up his shampoo and found Merlin in the room, still clad in his button down shirt and boxers, leaning against the sink. Merlin's eyes, when Gwaine pushed aside the shower curtain to see him better, were fixed quite a long way south of Gwaine's own, although he dragged them back up again with a grin.

"Don't let me interrupt," he said, sounding so much more cheerful than he had first thing that morning that Gwaine felt his own lips quirking into a smile in response. "Just brushing my teeth."

"You do know I have another bathroom, don't you?"

"I find it definitely inferior to this one," Merlin answered, turning to run his toothbrush under the cold tap, and Gwaine hissed as the water on his back ran slightly hotter for a few seconds (honestly, you'd think they'd have managed to fix a problem like that, what with how new a house it was, but apparently not). "There's just something here that the main bathroom lacks, don't you think?" His eyes met Gwaine's in the mirror above the sink, then dropped lower again, to where Gwaine's cock was visibly taking an interest in the conversation.

_To hell with sensitivity_, Gwaine decided. Merlin certainly looked alright, and it wasn't like he wasn't hinting for all he was worth; there was no need for Gwaine to continue being all absurdly cautious when Merlin wasn't anything close to running scared. "You're welcome to join me when you're done," he said, and the low pitch of his voice was only half deliberate.

Merlin froze, toothbrush in midair, then laughed in a way that was a whole lot less cheerful than Gwaine might have liked. "Some other time," he muttered, and maybe Gwaine was just projecting but he sort of thought Merlin sounded no less disappointed than he felt.

"Hmm. Offer stands if you change your mind," Gwaine said, letting his own eyes hover on Merlin's arse, then stepped back under the water to rewet his hair before reaching for the shampoo again. He set to washing with an unnecessary level of enthusiasm, but then Merlin was just stood there watching him (he'd given up on any pretence of not doing so, instead facing Gwaine and staring blatantly), and how was he supposed to resist putting on a show? It was only fair, after Merlin's display last night, that Gwaine allowed his hands to drift where they would as he spread soap across his skin, never lingering too long in one place, glancing at Merlin every second or two through the shower curtain, and it was more than a little absurd how short a space of time it was until he was sporting a rather impressive erection (even if he did say so himself), given that the only person touching him was himself (Merlin's gaze, weighty as it was, didn't really count).

It was gratifying, however, to that on Gwaine's next glance Merlin's toothbrush had been abandoned in the cup on the side of the sink. His breath was visibly unsteady, too, and Gwaine felt his own kick up a notch as Merlin pressed his palm to his crotch. Not moving, just resting there, and breathing, and staring, and Gwaine was so going to win this one, even as the tiny part of his mind that wasn't focused on how fucking good this would be as soon as he got Merlin to lose the clothes and join him was firmly insisting that it shouldn't be a competition, particularly seeing as they were both going to benefit from Gwaine's victory.

He moaned loudly, deliberately, fisting his cock with one soap-slick hand, and Merlin gasped, loud enough to be audible over the shower, then muttered what sounded an awful lot like, "fuck it." Gwaine ducked his head to hide his grin, keeping his pace steady; Merlin's capitulation meant there was no need to rush, even if he was going to be absurdly late to work today.

"Turn around," Merlin instructed, and in Gwaine's experience that wasn't what capitulating usually sounded like.

"What?" he asked, stilling, half-sure he'd misheard.

"Turn around. Or close your eyes, or something." Merlin pushed his underwear down his legs then stepped out of it before making a start on the few buttons on his shirt that he'd refastened sometime since waking in tears. "Just...please, Gwaine. Please."

Fuck. Giving in whenever Merlin asked for something in that way was such a bad idea, but then too much of Gwaine's blood was too far from his brain for him to really think through the merits, minimal as they were, of denying them both, and he so desperately wanted to come with Merlin's hands on him rather than just his own. He closed his eyes, then stepped back under the water fully, just for good measure, reaching up with his free hand rinse the bubbles from his hair.

Seconds later, his hand was knocked away, replaced by both of Merlin's, tangling there as he smoothed the water through Gwaine's hair; Gwaine reached out blindly for him, one hand finding its target on Merlin's hip, the other closing around his upper arm rather than resting on his shoulder, but Gwaine figured it was close enough. One of Merlin's hands slid free of his hair, while the other one tugged slightly, then harder, riding just in the edge of painful when Gwaine didn't immediately tilt his head back. He gasped softly, giving in, and kept his eyes scrunched shut as the water hit his face for a second or two until Merlin sealed their lips together in a kiss just as hot and wet as the water now hitting more of Merlin than Gwaine.

It was a personal flaw, Gwaine thought, how good he was at focusing on some things to the point where he excluded all others; he threw himself whole-heartedly into kissing Merlin, swiping his tongue across his lips, tasting warm water and toothpaste and Merlin in equal parts, then pushed his way inside, pulling Merlin close, the soap still lingering on his skin serving to make a slick glide of the roll of their hips. Merlin's second hand honed in on his arse, squeezing in time with their easy thrusts, and up until then Gwaine hadn't even thought of the fact that it wasn't touching him, and, God, this was weird. Because yeah, Gwaine wasn't exactly one of those creepy people who kept their eyes open during kisses, but it wasn't like he expected to be forbidden from doing so if that was what he wanted to do.

Still, Merlin had obviously had a difficult morning, and it wasn't like it was hurting him any to go along with what Merlin wanted, if it meant Merlin felt...more in control, Gwaine supposed. He could be passive, if Merlin wanted him to, if it made Merlin feel better about Gwaine seeing him crying only...what, half an hour ago, and how the fuck had this become his morning, fumbling in the shower with his new boyfriend only the day after getting back together with him (not that it was exactly a break-up in the first place), less than an hour after watching him wake up in tears?

"Fuck, Gwaine," Merlin murmured, the words brushing on Gwaine's lips as Merlin pressed their foreheads together, and Gwaine figured he was looking at him, at them, at their stomachs brushing and cocks slipping against each other, Gwaine's hand on Merlin's hip, Merlin's own on Gwaine's buttock. He felt a stab of jealousy, sort of, wanting to see Merlin properly, wet and naked and there only for him. "Fuck, I want...I...can I?" His hand slid further around, fingertips reaching the cleft of Gwaine's arse and slipping downwards, so slowly that Gwaine could only interpret it as waiting for permission.

"Yes," he agreed, because whatever the question was in its unspoken entirety (and he was pretty sure he knew, even if he was usually – although not quite always – on the opposite end of such things) that was the answer. "God, please yes."

Merlin let out a low chuckle that pulled at something deep in Gwaine's stomach, dragging his lips along Gwaine's jaw, nipping slightly. He steered Gwaine's head to one side, gently, trailing more kisses down his neck before halting at one spot on his shoulder, breathing heavily as he rested there, and all Gwaine could do was press back against Merlin's hand as best he could without risking loss of contact with Merlin's body, releasing his grip on Merlin's arm in order to wrap his fingers around both of them, holding Merlin steady with the hand on his hip.

"God, you're gorgeous," Merlin told him breathlessly, the words half-lost in the sound of the water, or something like that, at least, otherwise Gwaine's imagination was even more immodest than he thought it was. "Fuck, Gwaine, I want," he slurred, then proceeded to elucidate exactly what he wanted, as well as when and how and where, and yes, Gwaine was totally talking back any and all comments he'd made about Merlin's not knowing what appropriate sex-talk was.

He forgot to breathe for a second, and then a few more than that, but Merlin's impressively detailed imaginings extended to locations, damnit, and how was he supposed to think of anything other than how soon they could put them into practice? He fought the urge to open his eyes, even though he knew Merlin couldn't actually see if they were closed or not; it was a matter of trust, and if it meant he missed out on seeing this...well, Gwaine was damn well going to make sure there would be a whole lot more opportunities for him to do so in the future.

Merlin paused in his monologue to gasp out Gwaine's name, thrusting into Gwaine's hand, then returned to mouthing at his shoulder, breathing no less rapid than Gwaine's own, movements no less frantic, even as the press of his fingers stayed careful, controlled, and some tiny part of Gwaine's mind wondered what it would take to make Merlin lose control, when Merlin would trust him enough to do so.

Orgasm caught Gwaine almost by surprise, so absorbed was he in Merlin's hands, Merlin's mouth and words and fuck, Gwaine didn't even like being tied up, so why was he fixating on that particular idea so much? Why was it that image, combined with the way Merlin tugged hard on his hair, just the once, that sent him over the edge, shuddering and shattering, barely capable of forcing words from his lungs?

Merlin pulled back, unplastering his torso from Gwaine's, then plunged back in for a kiss, hot and wet and hungry for mere seconds before breathing became too essential for both of them, settling for sharing each other's air, mouths open and barely touching. He thrust once, twice – maybe more, but numbers weren't exactly high on Gwaine's list of priorities at that moment – before spilling over, collapsing back against Gwaine and just resting there, shaking slightly.

They clung to each other for a long minute, during which Gwaine fought against the fluttering of his eyelids, not quite sure if Merlin was alright with that yet, and, actually, he probably wouldn't have a problem with Merlin tying him down given how submissive he'd been with him since the beginning. Merlin pulled back a little, slipping his fingers free, and Gwaine bit his lip to hold back a whimper, because that was just too fucking embarrassing.

"Shh," Merlin said softly, releasing Gwaine's hair as well. "Shh, I'll see you in a minute."

Gwaine blamed the high he was still spiralling down from for how long that sentence took to register in his mind, the words foreign and confusing for much more time than he was comfortable with. "Merlin?" he asked at the sound of the shower curtain sliding aside, finally opening his eyes just in time to see the bathroom door click closed behind Merlin.

_Fuck_, he thought, slumping back against the tiles as he tried to compose himself enough to go after Merlin, like Merlin hadn't already seen him at close to his most vulnerable anyway.

X

Several minutes later, Gwaine left his bathroom, dripping slightly – Merlin stole his towel, the bastard, leaving him with only a hand towel too tiny to dry himself on – and anticipating awkwardness. In hindsight, that was fairly ridiculous, because fifty percent of his relationship with Merlin was composed of moments that ought to have been awkward but mostly weren't.

Of course, he thought, half the reason it wasn't awkward was because the only signs of Merlin's presence in Gwaine's bedroom were the damp towel hooked over the handle on the wardrobe door and the dog eared paperback on his bedside table; there was a moment – not a long one, but a moment nonetheless – where Gwaine wondered if Merlin had still run out on him, only slightly later than he'd intended to. He shook it off, forcibly and slightly too literally, splattering water from his hair across the room, then began a somewhat longer than usual search for clothing (turned out shoving everything out of the way last night was a far poorer idea than it had seemed, and thank God his heating was good enough for him to wander around the house unclothed, otherwise he'd be distinctly displeased with Merlin and his evil towel thieving ways).

He was partway through zipping the fly of his trousers (and, just for the record, moderately snug jeans and mildly damp legs? Not the best combination for one seeking easy dressing, and he was definitely investing in another towel rail for the bathroom before the next time they did that) when he heard a blast of static from downstairs, inordinately loud.

Merlin was in the kitchen, Gwaine surmised, and wondered how long he'd spend poking at the radio in there before giving up and deciding, as Gwaine had months ago, that it was a no good piece of crap. The only reason Gwaine hadn't got rid of the useless thing was because he thought one of his younger brother's might like to try 'fixing' it the next time they visited him (Gwaine and his mam were pretty much the only ones who still allowed Gareth and Gaheris – twins, just about to finish school and, their dad said, almost as much trouble put together as Gwaine had been on his own at their age – to mess with gadgetry, and even then it was only things they didn't want to get back).

Within seconds, the static cut off, replaced by silence, and Gwaine resumed digging through the mess in the base of his wardrobe for a shirt that was tidy enough to wear for work. There was a jubilant, "Ha!" as he found one, but, oddly enough, it didn't come from him. Merlin followed it up with, "Got you, you bastard," not quite as loudly, and then the radio that hadn't worked almost all the time Gwaine had owned it burst into song. As did Merlin, a minute or so later, when Gwaine made his way downstairs, although perhaps 'caterwauling' was a more accurate description.

"Christ," Gwaine joked, walking into the kitchen to see Merlin wielding a frying pan and eggs (where had he found those?) with great expertise. "If that's what you sound like in the shower, I'd've completely understood if Arthur _had_ had to find some means of silencing you. Could you please stop before the neighbours decide I'm killing someone and call the police?"

"You're not funny," Merlin answered, but underneath his half-arsed frown the corners of his mouth were quirking upwards. "Not at all funny. And after I went to the effort of making you breakfast, too."

Gwaine took one of the plates of eggs and toast (toast? Toast? That Merlin had managed to find eggs was impressive, but bread that wasn't blue? Gwaine could have sworn he'd run out of that days ago) from him, sitting at the table. "Thank you," he said, smiling. "I am both grateful and deeply impressed. Where was the bread?"

"That's something you should know," Merlin answered, "this being your kitchen and all. How is it that you survive without food?"

Gwaine shrugged, digging into his breakfast. "Don't eat here, usually. Leon's cooking is way better than anything I could manage." He paused for a moment, long enough for him to chew and swallow a mouthful (it was too early, both in the day and in their relationship, for him to gross Merlin out by talking with his mouth full), then, eyes fixed on his plate, added, "haven't been in the mood to go shopping for anything but essentials for a few days anyway. It's not usually quite this bad."

Merlin lowered his fork slightly, then put it down completely, reaching across the table and covering Gwaine's hand with his own. "I'm sorry," he said, voice soft and almost painfully earnest.

"Don't. Unless you're actually with Arthur, or someone else, you don't have anything to apologise for." Gwaine smiled, because it wasn't exactly Merlin's fault he'd gotten so stupidly attached to him in such a short space of time. Merlin had made it fairly clear he wasn't looking for something long-term, so God alone knew why Gwaine had decided on wanting just that (and, for that matter, why Merlin had changed his mind about it). He pulled his hand out from under Merlin's and stood, feeling the need for caffeine. "I'm making a coffee. Do you want one?"

"Wouldn't say no to a tea," Merlin answered, then ploughed right on with the topic Gwaine had been trying to get away from. "And I'm not. I'm really really not. And I'm still sorry. I mean, it's your fault you jumped to conclusions, but it's my fault the jump was so short, and I know pretending I didn't know you didn't help any. I shouldn't have done it."

"Merlin," Gwaine started, switching the kettle on and giving the milk a surreptitious sniff before offering it to him. "It's fi-"

"It's _not_ fine," Merlin cut in, sounding far more emphatic than the situation warranted, in Gwaine's eyes. "You were right. I lied to my friends and I made you and Will lie to them and they've spent the whole week since then worrying that I'm going to do something stupid again because I'd already lied and couldn't just tell them all what was up." He slumped, staring morosely at his breakfast; Gwaine marvelled in a not good way at how quickly he could change moods, and, much as he didn't like being a secret, he liked even less the people he cared about being unhappy.

"So it's great that your friends care about you so much, and having met them I can safely say they seem like good people" – even Arthur, for all Gwaine thought he was a bit of a dick, hadn't seemed _bad_ – "but has it occurred to you that maybe they all worry a bit too much? You're a grown man, Merlin. If you don't want to tell them something, you don't have to."

Merlin looked at him wordlessly for a moment, expression just this side of blank, then tore his gaze away. "Don't suggest that to them," he said softly, but with an edge of steel. "It's not a good idea."

Gwaine wished, quite sincerely, that Merlin would stop saying things that made it difficult for him to stick to his decision to wait for Merlin to tell him stuff, because about half of Merlin's sentences had him desperate to ask questions. "That would presuppose I was going to see them again," he said, instead of asking _why not?_

Merlin stared, his face quite clearly asking _how stupid are you?_ then dropped it for a grateful smile when Gwaine handed him his mug of tea. "You will be. Like Morgana would have introduced you to everyone if she didn't think you were worthy. She doesn't make short-term investments."

"It was Leon's idea, actually," Gwaine corrected.

"And yet it was Morgana who came into your office wearing those ridiculously high heels she wears when she wants to intimidate people and told you the various rules of meeting us all."

Gwaine fought off surprise, because he'd already established a week ago just how close a group they all were, and it wasn't like Merlin was completely correct. "I wouldn't say various," he answered, sitting down and taking an obnoxiously loud slurp of coffee. "Mostly she just told me not to encourage and/or drive you and Arthur to drink."

"Huh," Merlin said, actually seeming shocked for a second, and Gwaine wondered how many instructions most people got. And, more interestingly, what the rest of the rules everyone else had to follow were. "Interesting."

Gwaine waited the second or two necessary to realise nothing was going to follow that statement, watching as Merlin's surprise became something a whole lot closer to confusion, little lines forming between his eyebrows, and that was quite enough of serious for now. "Guess that means I'm special, then," he joked.

"Guess so," Merlin agreed, remaining sombre for a moment before seeming to fling himself back into an easy mood with no less effort than it took the average first time sky-diver to fling themselves from a plane. "Still, _special _or not, you're not going tonight. Your cupboards are distinctly reminiscent of Old Mother Hubbard's, and I cannot in good conscience allow them to remain that way. We're going shopping, and you can continue your plan to ingratiate yourself with my friends next week."

Merlin grinned, his tone humorous, and Gwaine, choosing to hear his words as _I'm glad you like them_ rather than anything else, couldn't help smiling in return.

X

Merlin was not a good person to go shopping with. He didn't have a pound for the trolley (but then neither did Gwaine, which meant they had to lurk inside the trolley bay, listening to the rain pounding on the Plexiglas cover until they found someone willing to exchange one for a handful of change), he didn't shop in a sensible order, choosing to dart all over the place looking for whatever he was thinking at the time rather than picking things up when he reached the aisle they were in, and, worst of all, he kept putting things in the trolley. Which led to conversations like:

"Merlin, why are you putting the flour back?"

"Because I already got you some. Look, it's there under the cheese."

And, slightly breathlessly:

"I just came back to ask you what sort of bread you bought normally."

"Oh. Er. The blue one, with yellow writing, and...You know what, I'll get it when we get round there."

And then, of course, there were whole moments, plenty of them, that showed just how whipped Gwaine was.

"You," Merlin said, trying and failing to sound stern, "have put the muesli back again."

Gwaine looked at the jumbled contents of the trolley, not entirely sure how he could tell that at just a glance, because another thing Merlin clearly didn't comprehend was the proper way to put things in a trolley (he was already planning on packing all the bags himself, just so that the bread and fruit and other squashables didn't end up buried beneath the tins of tomatoes and baked beans). "Yeah," he agreed. "I don't like it. Sort of thought putting it back once would have told you that."

"Well, you should probably get it anyway, unless you plan to make me pancakes every single time I'm at yours for breakfast." Merlin tilted his head, something of a question to the gesture, and Gwaine figured he ought to let it pass.

He grinned at him, effectively breaking their stare down across the trolley. "For you, Merlin, I'd make pancakes every day," he joked, then allowed the cereals to be returned to the trolley anyway.

All in all, it wasn't an unproductive shopping trip, even if he wasn't likely to eat a third of the things in his cupboards. Merlin was happy, at any rate, and apparently intending to eat Gwaine out of house and home in the future, so it was all alright.

X

_Meanwhile_

"Where's Merlin?" Morgana asks, once she's been sat next to Arthur for a minute or two without him offering her anything more than a grunt in greeting. They are the only two there, since Arthur is always early everywhere when he's not travelling there with Merlin and Leon let her out of the car by the door to the pub before going to park the car to save her getting too wet.

Arthur shrugs, digs a crumpled scrap of paper from his pocket and shoves it in front of her, all without looking at her. Although, she thinks, that's probably for the best, given how intently he's glaring at the pint glass of lemonade before him; he's having a crappy day, obviously, since he's apparently bought his own drink before everyone else arrives.

She unfolds the note from Merlin, hoping it'll give some sort of clue as to the reason for Arthur's sulking. It doesn't, of course, but then the words _Supermarket. Giving it a miss tonight. Try not to wake me when you get in. M_ are hardly enlightening, beyond telling her that things are probably not great. Merlin hasn't missed one of their weekly pub trips since he moved back here, apart from when he's gone back home for a few days every now and again. "He's not here because he's gone food shopping?" Morgana asks, hoping her sceptical doubt hides her worry; letting Arthur know how much this concerns her is hardly going to help him stop being like this.

Arthur only shrugs a second time, glaring ever more fiercely at his drink, then casts a glance at the bar, gnawing on his bottom lip; Morgana revises her estimate from probably not great to Definitely Not Good, and wonders how to get Arthur's glass from his hands without it being desperately obvious why she's doing it.

Her planning is interrupted by Lance's arrival, which is probably only for the best since her best idea so far involves pointing over Arthur's shoulder and asking "what's that?" before lunging; as ideas go, it's distinctly lacking in subtlety, and Arthur knowing that she's checking his drink for alcohol will also only make him more irritated. Lance peels his damp coat off before sitting down two seats to her left rather than sitting beside Arthur as usual, two seats to her right (then again, she's already messing everything up by not leaving space for Merlin beside Arthur). He's practically buzzing with anticipation, at least until he shoots a quick glance at her brother that can only be described as angst-ridden, and this, she thinks, explains whatever part of Arthur's sulk that can't be accounted for by Merlin's absence.

"Gwen didn't tell me she was going to be here tonight," she says, then snags Arthur's drink when he ducks his head away from her, ignoring both her words and Lance's presence until such a time as he manages to smother whatever emotion his face is currently displaying. She feels a little guilty when a tiny, cautious sip tells her there's nothing in his glass but ice and lemonade, but she does a whole lot better at looking impassive than Arthur ever has, handing him his glass back with a smile and a soft, "thanks, brother. I needed that."

He isn't fooled by it, and she doesn't think Lance is, either, but neither of them says anything about it, Arthur because he's too much Uther's son to discuss anything to do with feelings, Lance because he's too much himself to say anything in front of Arthur.

"He was seeing Gaius today, wasn't he?" Morgana continues, if only to break the absurd tension that is Arthur and Lance in the same place whenever Gwen is likely to show up. Her question, apparently, is complicated enough that a shrug just will not suffice as an answer, because Arthur grunts.

She drops the whole matter when Leon enters the pub, stopping on the doorstep and literally wringing his hair out. He ambles over to them, and it's a testament to how well she knows him that Morgana notices him hesitate for less than a second when he registers the seating arrangements.

"Where's-" he starts, sitting next to her, stopping when she widens her eyes at him and passes him the note from Merlin. He reads it silently, his only reaction a nod, short and precise, followed by an inane comment about the weather, like anyone in the country hasn't noticed it's raining. He glances at Arthur's drink as he says it, tilting his head slightly: _is he drinking?_

"Hideous, isn't it? And where did you park, anyway? Darkest Peru?" she says, in response to his weather comment, wrinkling her nose as she shakes her head minutely: _no, he's sulking but sober_. It's a little harder to communicate that Gwen is going to be there this evening, since repeated glances between Lance, Arthur and the empty chair beside Arthur that would normally be Lance's don't seem to work; Leon frowns in confusion through their next few weather/Peru/Paddington Bear related comments, looks appalled when she gestures vaguely to her breasts following glances at each of the idiots, and only works out what she means when Gwen, Elyan and Percival all join them at the same time, at which point her attempts to broadcast it via charades become utterly unnecessary.

There's a few moments of confusion as they attempt to find the least complicated way for them to sit (Percival beside Arthur, Gwen next to him, then Elyan at her other side seems to be the conclusion, and it's all Morgana can do not to roll her eyes at them all, and the fact that everyone knows what they're doing and why but no one mentions it), then Elyan and Percival bicker about who is going to buy the first round. Or Elyan bickers, anyway: Percival just sits, his face a perfect picture of _make me_, and thus would win by default if Morgana was willing to let it go on for long enough, but her lie to Arthur a few minutes ago is truer than she'd thought.

"Really, boys," she drawls, picking up her bag from under the table. "Gwen, darling, come and get the drinks in with me."

She taps the note in Leon's hand, flicks her eyes over to Arthur, then round at the others and shakes her head as she stands; his only response is a bland smile, but this one is clearer, she thinks, and walks around the table to link arms with Gwen. Leon begins telling in great detail and with wild exaggeration a story about the number of bags she returned home with when she went shopping on Saturday, effectively diverting them all from the two most obvious topics of conversation (_where's Merlin? _and _are you okay, Arthur?_), and Morgana likes to think she's leaving them all in safe hands.

"Sorry," Gwen says, the second they've placed their drink orders. "I keep thinking, coming out with you all can't really be as awkward as I remember it being, and then I do, and it's even more awkward than I thought it could be."

"You have as much right to be here as they do," Morgana tells her, squeezing her had gently. It isn't an instruction not to apologise, because sides were drawn long ago and Morgana made it perfectly clear that she's on Arthur's, then and now and always, but Gwen is the only real female friend she has, and she isn't going to cut her out of her life when she can't be sure she wouldn't have done the same thing had she been in Gwen's position back then.

"Hmm," Gwen says, in a way that makes it absolutely clear that she disagrees with Morgana, but is far too smart to say so.

Morgana smiles at her, then glances back at the table, wincing at the forlorn look on Arthur's face. "That isn't all because you're here," she says, since they're safely beyond the range of Arthur's hearing. "It's at least half because Merlin isn't. What was he like at work today?"

"He wasn't," Gwen says, and Morgana can see the cogs in her mind switch from worrying about Arthur and Lance to worrying about Merlin. "He had today off." She purses her lips, and Morgana raises an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. Gwen hesitates a moment, then pulls together, looking like she's expecting to be shouted at. "Yesterday, though, he and Will went somewhere at lunchtime, and neither of them would say where or why, but Merlin...he wasn't...I'm not sure that we need to worry, but..."

"But," Morgana echoes, and knows Gwen is thinking, as she is, of the last time they all thought they didn't need to worry about Merlin too much. She taps her nails against the bar, contemplating; Merlin is far too good at lying to them all about how he's feeling for asking him anything to be a worthwhile course of action, and involving anyone else in the matter will just make them worry too, something Morgana would rather avoid until she knows there is definite cause for concern. "Let me know how Merlin is tomorrow," she says, making her decision. "If there's something to worry about, I'll talk to Will."

"Um," Gwen says, and whilst it was once so very her it hasn't been more recently. "I don't know that he'll...I mean, he promised Merlin, and...well, maybe, but I-"

"You're babbling, love," Morgana cuts in, smiling as gently as she can (which, you know, isn't very). Gwen nods ruefully, and Morgana figures it's the awkwardness of the evening making her more stuttery than normal. "And anyway, you're forgetting how easy to persuade Will can be, with the right incentive."

Morgana goes to pick up as many of the drinks as she can, ready to get back to the table and check on Arthur again (and her last glance at the table showed Leon tapping his watch as he glanced back at her, meaning either _how long does it take you to get drinks, woman?_ or _help! Can't distract them much longer_, but either way they need to be heading back there). Before she can do any more than that, Gwen grabs her arm. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Morgana tells her, only slightly dishonest. Killer heels and cleavage have always worked on getting the truth out of Will before, however hard he might try to keep it hidden, and if not...well, she'll decide on anything else if it comes to it. "Don't worry, Gwen. I promise not to go too far." She leaves unspoken the 'it's Merlin, after all', mostly because Gwen has to know it's there, and that since the accident Morgana hasn't considered anything to be going too far where Merlin's concerned, but she doesn't comment, just picks up the three remaining drinks and follows.

Back at the table, Leon seems to have held everything together fairly well, despite his worrying; Arthur certainly doesn't seem any worse, which is good enough. Or so she thinks, until Elyan, taking a gulp of his pint, asks, "So, where's-"

"I don't fucking know where he is," Arthur snaps, gaze locking onto Elyan in a way that Morgana would consider just a tad intimidating even if she hadn't grown up in a house with Uther, and she is maybe – just maybe – a little reassured when Leon's large hand covers her own under the table. "I'm not his minder and I'm not his bloody boyfriend, so stop asking me. He's allowed to not be here if he wants to not be here."

There is a long and slightly uncomfortable silence (and not just at their table, either, because Arthur has definite problems with volume when angry), during which everyone tries their very best not to look at Arthur. "Actually," Elyan says after almost too long, laughing in an uncomfortable way. "I was going to ask about Morgana and Leon's friend. Where's he tonight?"

Leon just shrugs, and Morgana, remembering him saying that he didn't see Gwaine leave his office all day today _again_, answers for him. "Moping, I imagine."

"Morgana-"

She rolls her eyes, turning her hand in Leon's and twining their fingers together even as she carries on, talking over whatever objections he's about to raise. Honestly, she really doesn't understand the stupid male obsession with not talking about people's feelings, not when so much of their groups' drama could be solved with just a few conversations. "There was some hoo-hah with his boyfriend last week, and-" she stops, lost in thought for a second, because an idea is fizzling in the back of her mind, new and interesting and so very obvious that she should have thought of it sooner, then continues. "And he's been a little upset by it, Leon says."

"I know we've talked about how some things I tell you are things you aren't supposed to then tell everyone else," Leon says to her, tone casual enough that she knows he doesn't care all that much (or, more likely, that he cares that she does it, but doesn't actually expect her to stop. Smart, smart man). "The relationship status of the man with the power to fire me really ought to be one of those things."

She only smiles in reply, bright and cheerful and slightly more manic than the situation really requires or merits._ I have a brilliant idea_, she telegraphs through smiles and winks and careful tilts of the head, because she does. She can't solve the absurd love triangle her friends and brother seem determined not to do anything with, but she can sort out Gwaine and Merlin, at least temporarily, which will make Arthur slightly more bearable.

Leon burying his head in his hands takes no interpretation at all. And to think, she hasn't even told him what the plan is yet.

X

Paperwork, Gwaine decided, was dull. Hardly a revelatory decision, but he'd been sat in his office for far too many days, not quite ready to leave it yesterday in case Leon had more questions about Merlin for him (because he wasn't exactly good at secrets, particularly not when drunk and/or cheerful, and announcing that at least some of the reason Merlin had been blue was because Gwaine was avoiding his calls probably wouldn't go down well with Merlin). Today, however, he was in definite need of an excuse to get out and speak to people, and seeing if Leon was doing anything interesting in the kitchen was as good as anything else.

He was just a little bit appalled to find Morgana there as well, bare-footed and perched on a stool. In the place where her boyfriend prepared food. "Shoes," he instructed, because he wasn't one of Leon's kitchen-minions, too scared to remind her that rules were rules and that she was breaking enough of them by being there at all. "Now, please," he added, since, yeah, not scared, but manners never hurt.

She pouted in response, looking to Leon when that failed, presumably hoping for back-up (clearly, she'd missed the memo about how her powers of persuasion/intimidation were way more impressive than his were). Leon made a valiant effort at pretending not to see the look, focusing instead on scooping out whatever it was he was making from a mixing bowl into a cake tin.

With a dramatic sigh, Morgana pulled a pair of painfully high sandals out from under her stool and put them on. "If you were women, you wouldn't make me do this," she grumbled, though the pout faded a little when Leon handed her the mixing bowl and a spoon. "Other than that, however, you are just the person I wanted to see. I've been meaning to speak to you, Gwaine," she said, scraping the spoon around the bowl then licking the cake batter from it.

"Oh?" Gwaine asked, at the exact same moment as Leon said, "_No_," in a particularly pointed way.

Morgana ignored him, patting the stool next to her before grabbing a second spoon from on the work-surface and passing it and the bowl to Gwaine (that so hadn't been why he was staring, but he wasn't going to say that given that her boyfriend was standing no more than two feet from them). "Yep. You remember our friend Merlin? He's been asking about you."

"Has he now?" Gwaine drawled, taking his own spoonful of cake batter and passing the bowl back over. "Merlin's the tall – although maybe not by your friends' standards – dark-haired guy, right?"

"Morgana, can I speak to you for a moment?" Leon interrupted before she could provide Gwaine with an utterly redundant answer.

"It's fine, Leon. Stop worrying so much." She nodded at Gwaine, smiling. "I think he likes you."

_Good to know, that_, Gwaine thought, then followed it up by marvelling at just how smug his brain could be. "Isn't he seeing your brother?" Gwaine asked, hoping it was a logical thing to wonder rather than, you know, just him being horrendously jealous for the best part of the last week, and oh, God, why was it only occurring to him now that he could have done so at any point during the week and saved he and Merlin a whole lot of angsting?

Morgana laughed – not unkindly – and Leon tried and failed to hide a smile. "Arthur and Merlin? Not in this lifetime," she replied. "Not that anyone would blame you for thinking that. Gwen and I have told them more than once that their joking doesn't look half as platonic as they think it does."

Gwaine could quite safely say that it didn't look at all platonic, but settled for nodding and taking back the bowl before Morgana could finish scraping it clean. "So what did he want to know?"

"Whether or not you were going to try patch things up with your potentially cheating boyfriend, mostly." Which placed Merlin's asking about him a few days ago, well before Merlin came in to the restaurant and Gwaine decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and call. He wasn't going to learn much about what Merlin thought of him, then, beyond the fact that he wanted to fix things enough to let other people (or Morgana, at least) know he was interested in Gwaine. "I told him that I didn't know, although Leon seemed pretty certain that you would."

"And what did he think of that?" Gwaine asked anyway, glancing briefly at Leon when he cleared his throat loudly.

"I believe his exact words were 'hmm. I'll bring your coffee over in a minute'. So your guess is as good as mine." She pulled a piece of paper from the bag by her feet – Gwaine made a point of looking away, given how dangerously her blouse gaped as she leant over – and scribbled on it in blue biro, then slid it across the countertop to him. "This is his number. Just in case Leon's wrong and you don't fix things with your guy."

Gwaine barely had a chance to register the near illegibility of her handwriting – he would have expected someone like her to have graceful, loopy handwriting, rather than that hideous scrawl – before Leon reached over Morgana and tugged the paper from his hands.

"No, Morgana," he said, sounding impressively stern.

"Oh, come on," she said, her pout making a remarkable comeback. "They're both grown men. It'll be fine."

"And what would Elyan say about that?" Leon responded, more than a little bite to it, and Gwaine worried he'd somehow found himself in the middle of some odd couple's argument. Not, of course, that he had any idea what it was about, or how the string of seemingly unrelated sentences were actually linked to each other, but still. He suppressed the desire to scarper (although it was quite impressive how quickly the kitchen-minions managed to vanish, and why was he not aware that Leon and Morgana used his kitchen to hash out whatever arguments they were currently revisiting, because there was no way everyone could have vanished that rapidly if this was the first time it had happened?), mostly because the disagreement seemed to have something to do with him, or Merlin, or him-and-Merlin and sure, he wasn't asking Merlin about why exactly he was so opposed to his friends knowing about them (protection-schmotection, Gwaine was perfectly capable of handling himself) but he wasn't above sticking around to hear Morgana and Leon squabble in the hopes that they might share something Merlin wouldn't.

"That was Elyan's fault. Anyone could see that wasn't going to work out."

"And you think Merlin and Gwaine might?" There was a very brief pause, during which Morgana looked increasingly gleeful, and then Leon turned from Morgana to Gwaine and added, "No offence, mate."

"None taken," Gwaine replied, only half-meaning it. He and Merlin were working out just fine, whatever Leon thought of their chances. Little bit of a bumpy start, maybe, but the last two days had been just peachy.

"It's not that I don't think you're a decent bloke," Leon continued, then turned back to his girlfriend, "but...well, he's not exactly Freya, is he?"

"And if we all only dated people like our first loves, you'd still be mooning over Gwen and I'd be wasting my life on men like my brother," Morgana scoffed, and Gwaine forgot all about making a note of the name Freya because that was so much more interesting. "And don't look at me like that, Gwaine Lothian," she added, despite the fact that her back was to him and she had no idea how he was looking at her. "Nothing ever happened, and it's not like we knew we were siblings. Everyone thought I was adopted until I was fifteen and Uther heard people speculating about how long it'd be before Arthur and I got together and thought it was a good idea to tell us he'd knocked up his best mate's wife while his own was pregnant."

Apparently the fact that Morgana's father was a cheating scumbag and that she'd once had an accidentally incestuous teenage crush on her brother wasn't news to Leon (that or he was just utterly unflappable), since all he did was pat her on the shoulder in what seemed to Gwaine to be a slightly condescending manner, then went back to melting chocolate over a pan of hot water. His reward for this great kindness was apparently the resumption of their earlier discussion, and Gwaine decided to hold back his questions in favour of listening in again. He could always ask Merlin later, anyway.

"Elyan was asking for trouble, anyway," Morgana told Leon with an emphatic wave of her spoon, "trying to set up Merlin with Cenred. You know his thing for leather and knives probably extended into the bedroom, and Merlin doesn't go for that." She stopped for a second. "I don't think Merlin goes for that." She turned to Gwaine again, frowning slightly. "Thoughts on bondage?"

"Morgana!" Leon gaped at her. "How many times do we have to talk about _boundaries_?"

"What?" she asked, sounding incredibly innocent for someone inquiring about the intimate details of Gwaine's sex-life, and wow, Gwaine wondered if he'd ever actually be able to have a conversation with Morgana again without expecting some sort of mild mental trauma as a result of it. "It's important to know these things before you get involved with someone."

"Perhaps, but that's hardly relevant here since Gwaine isn't going to be getting involved with Merlin," Leon argued.

Morgana snorted, a gesture Gwaine found just as uncharacteristic as her handwriting. "I think that's his choice, isn't it?"

"No! I like my job, Morgana."

"Stop being such a baby," she answered, patting Leon's arm in no less condescending a gesture than his pat to her shoulder had been earlier, then dipped a finger in the bowl of melting chocolate (_please _let her hands be properly clean, Gwaine thought, even as she received a gently rap to the knuckles with the handle of Leon's wooden spoon). She turned to address her next question to Gwaine, rolling her eyes. "Look, if I give you Merlin's number, the two of you go out, have a great time, sleep together, and then he never calls you again, will you fire Leon?"

"No," Gwaine said, laughing, then looked at Leon, who seemed to consider that a genuine concern. "Hang on, has that actually happened?"

"Elyan made the mistake of setting up Merlin with his boss," Leon told him. "Elyan now works for Arthur."

Morgana shook her head, her smile moving from teasing to tender. "Really, sweetie, stop fussing. He's already said he's not going to fire you. And even if he did, you wouldn't have to work for Arthur. He has absolutely no reason to employ a chef."

For reasons unknown to Gwaine, Leon actually seemed to take comfort in that; after a long look between them that left Gwaine feeling unpleasantly voyeuristic (because whilst Morgana apparently didn't believe in social taboos about what could and could not be said, she was clearly just as uncaring of the fact that just as much could be shared without any words at all), Leon released the piece of paper still clenched in his fist and handed it to her. "Fine," he huffed. "But you'll regret it if I lose this job. Don't think I don't know how much you spend on clothes."

"I love you too, honey," she said, effectively ending what was probably the oddest disagreement Gwaine had ever witnessed. She passed the paper with Merlin's number on it to Gwaine, entirely redundantly since it was already programmed into his mobile. "Call him," she instructed. "If you don't fix things with your boyfriend. I'm sure Merlin would love to hear from you, and you could both do with a little bit of fun."

"I might," he allowed, although there wasn't actually any question about it whatsoever; completely ignoring the fact that he'd planned on calling Merlin later in the afternoon anyway, there was no way Gwaine wasn't going to ask more about pretty much everything Morgana had just told him.

"Good boy," she said, jumping lightly down from her seat and brushing the creases out of her skirt. "Now, I have to go see a man about a dog. Don't listen to a word Leon tells you while I'm gone."

Leon rolled his eyes, bending down obligingly to allow her to plant a lipsticky kiss on his cheek, then watched as she made her way out of the kitchen. "You'll need to undo another button if you actually want to get anything out of him," he called as the kitchen-minions took her departure as their cue to return, their re-entry keeping the door open long enough for Morgana's answering laughter to reach them.

"You two have the oddest relationship I've ever seen," Gwaine told him over the sound of pans clanking and preparation for the lunch rush beginning.

Leon only nodded in unperturbed agreement, carefully removing the chocolate from the heat before turning to Gwaine with a deeply serious expression. "I'm not going to tell you not to call Merlin," he said, leaning back against the counter. "But I will tell you this: it might be Morgana's idea for you to do it, but that doesn't mean she won't find ways of making your life unbearable if you hurt him, and she certainly won't be alone in doing so."

"Mate," Gwaine began, then paused, getting the impression that this maybe wasn't the best time for anything less than utter seriousness. "I have no intention of hurting him," he promised, and huh, maybe he was more scared of threats from Merlin's friends than he'd thought he was.


	11. Settling In

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not mine.**  
>Warnings: <strong>There aren't particularly any for this chapter, beyond the obvious for bad language and Morgana being a bit of a Bee Eye Tea See Aich. That said, _**this whole chapter could be seen as a warning for later ones**_**.**The pieces are all there, they just need to be put together. I'm not going to put in a warning in the next chapter, despite the fact that it probably requires one, because I don't want to. But that's bad, I suppose, so the last chunk of this one in particular is an alert. If you wish to know what for, please **_Google it_ **(or whatever search engine you prefer, but Google is obviously the best). This will make sense when you've finished the chapter, I promise. And if not, feel free to ask for details.**  
>Notes: <strong>So, I am well aware how long it has been. Apologies and whatnot, but this fic is...difficult, sometimes, and it's sort of fallen by the wayside lately, what with other things I've got going on. Honestly, it was only Sunday evening as I sat not reading the book I was holding that I realised I could actually still write this (yes, I realise that this makes no sense). So, with the exception of the first part, this chapter came into being in under twenty four hours, then a little bit more time to polish it up a bit. More will happen, and the next one is very short so should be about soon.  
><strong>(A tiny bit of begging: <strong>so, Peach likes reviews. Reviews make her happy. A happy Peach writes a little quicker and with a slightly bigger smile than a less-than-happy Peach. And, sure, updates will happen whether you comment or not, but...consider it your good deed for the day?**)**

**We Are Young**

**Settling In**

Morgana nips into the bathroom before leaving the restaurant, because appearances are important, particularly when attempting to get information out of someone. Of course, Will is not a particularly difficult person to get information out of when it comes to most things, but when it's Merlin he's being asked about, he does a reasonably good job of keeping mum, and Morgana is not having it.

Something is going on with Merlin, and she is going to find out what. Bad shit has happened to her boys before, some of it things that she could and should have prevented, and Morgana isn't going to let it happen to Merlin again; if that means she has to paint her lips a shade just shy of _whore_ and unbutton her shirt most of the way to her navel, that's what she's going to do. Merlin is more important than her dignity.

On the other hand, it's cold enough outside to freeze her tits off and there's no point in bringing out the big guns too soon, so when she's done with fluffing her hair she zips her jacket (premium leather, perfectly fitted, complete bargain even if it did cost what most people consider a small fortune) to the neck, rearranges her scarf and heads out to the car. The seat is placed for Leon, a good few inches further back than she needs it, but that's easily remedied and within minutes of leaving the kitchen she's on her way, parking in the tiny employee car park behind Gwen's shop no more than half an hour after she decided to go there.

She gets the hugging and hellos over and done with quickly, placating Gwen with a _woman on a mission_ smile, and instructs her to make sure Will brings her drink over to her table when he has his break.

The look Gwen gives her is kind, with an air of parental indulgence to it, like she doesn't understand that this is (or certainly could be) a matter of life and death, like Merlin doesn't mean the world to her as well as to everyone else. "Play nice," Gwen says softly, not bothering to scrawl anything on her order pad before waving Morgana towards her usual table. "And don't expect me to deny any of this if Merlin asks me what you want with Will. I'm not going down with you."

Morgana smiles, knowing full well that Gwen won't say a thing. Will is another matter, maybe, but Merlin will understand. He won't like it, she knows that much, but he'll get why Morgana can't not interfere.

She can see the second Gwen tells Will she's waiting for him, identifiable by the way his face falls in abject despair. A few frantic sentences are exchanged, Will waving his hands emphatically while Gwen shakes her head in sympathy, and it's equally clear who is going to win.

Morgana almost feels sorry for Will. The poor bastard has never stood a chance.

"Witch," Will mutters, setting Morgana's latte on the table. "Not tellin' you jack."

Morgana smiles, using her toes to push the chair opposite her out from under the table, then stares at him until he sits.

"Where Merlin an' me went is none of your business," he says, when Morgana's smile breaks his first layer of determination.

Morgana raises an eyebrow, then picks up her coffee, sipping at it for precisely ten seconds before putting it down again and unwinding her scarf from her neck.

Will swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, his discomfort clearly visible, but at least he's too smart to try making a run for it. "If he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. He hasn't, so I won't."

"Of course," Morgana agrees, drinking another ten seconds' worth of coffee. "Your loyalty is commendable."

"Witch," Will repeats. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing here. It's not working."

It's working perfectly, Morgana knows, and she was hardly expecting Will to be ignorant of her attempts to get the truth out of him. Still, a little extra persuasion can't hurt. She unzips the first few inches of her jacket.

Will makes a valiant attempt at not looking, he really does; Morgana drinks again, unzips her jacket the rest of the way, and leans forwards.

"Witch," he says a third time, his eyes quite firmly fixed on something just beyond Morgana's right shoulder. "If it were something bad, do you really think I'd have gone along with it? This is something good, Morgana, I promise. It might actually make him happy. You think I'd do anything that might get him hurt?"

"I think you don't know what might get him hurt."

"Yeah, well, I weren't one of the people around the last time, were I?" Will is visibly angry now, a vein twitching in his forehead, which isn't exactly what Morgana was expecting (although, she's pleased to note, his eyes keep flicking towards her cleavage, so she hasn't entirely lost her gifts just yet). "I weren't one of you who thought he could lose Freya and just be fine. I weren't the idiot who _let_-"

Morgana is on her feet before she realises she intended to move in the first place. "How dare you blame us! How dare you suggest that-that." Her mug is empty before she can find the words to finish that sentence, a way to express the incandescent fury that fills her, tempered only by a pool of guilt that is fathoms deep, because no one has said anything like that to any of them but it doesn't mean they don't all blame themselves anyway. "Go fuck yourself, William," she says, with a level of calm quiet that Arthur has always told her is scarier than her rage. "God knows you're the only person who'd ever want to."

Morgana turns and stalks out, leaving the bastard sitting there at her table, hot coffee running down his face and turning his white t-shirt a soggy brown. Fuck him, she thinks. Fuck Will and his lies and Merlin and his secrets. She doesn't need to know anyway.

Merlin will have way more fun with Gwaine that he will sneaking off for secret lunches and missing pub nights, and the sooner he works that out the better.

X

Gwaine kicked closed the door to the house, shedding his coat and shoes on the floor behind him before flopping onto the sofa, legs dangling over the arm and head resting in the middle of the seat. God, today had been a long day. Not a particularly difficult one, but a long one, and he could think of few things he wanted more than to talk to Merlin.

He dug around in his pockets, managing to retrieve nothing more than a scrap of paper, only then remembering zipping his phone into his coat. "Bollocks," he muttered, really not wanting to stand up to get it, then glanced at the paper in his hand. Merlin's number, which he hadn't quite managed to memorise yet, and if he just stretched a bit further...Gwaine's fingers scrabbled to close on the phone that lived on the table beside the sofa, bringing it close and dialling the number before him.

It rang what had to be most of the way to voicemail, but Merlin picked it up eventually, sounding wary. "Hello?"

"Evening, lover," Gwaine answered. "Good day?"

"Who is this?"

Well, that was flattering. "Sort of under the impression you only had one, Merlin, unless there's something you want to tell me?" And Gwaine was joking, he was, because he did believe Merlin about there not being anyone else. Didn't sound like a joke, maybe, but still.

"Gwaine?"

"Well, at least I was the first name you guessed," Gwaine said, and, again, it didn't sound quite as unserious as he meant it to.

Merlin laughed anyway, still with a slightly confused edge to it. "No, you just threw me a bit. How'd you get this number?"

Gwaine glanced at the paper again, more than a little bit confused himself, because, nope, Morgana definitely hadn't given him a landline number. "You put it in my phone?"

"My other one, yeah," Merlin answered. "I don't use this one."

"Not following, mate."

"Morgana decided I needed a new phone, and that the only reason I hadn't got one was because I couldn't afford it, so she bullied Arthur into buying me one," Merlin said, like it was obvious. "It's stupid and expensive and my other one is perfectly good, but the pair of them insist on calling me on this one so I have to carry it around anyway, and...seriously, Morgana? You told her?"

"If I was going to tell her, I think I'd've done it the first time I realised you knew her," Gwaine pointed out with, he thought, incontrovertible logic (and wasn't that a scary thought). "She did give me it, though. Told me that if I didn't fix things with...well, you, but she didn't know that part, then I should give you a call."

Merlin laughed again, and, honestly, Gwaine couldn't blame him; saying it out loud made the whole thing seem even more ridiculous than it did when it was actually happening. "Morgana told you to call me? Like, as a set up?"

"Yeah. Weird, right?"

The pause from Merlin's end of the call was a long one, and when he answered his voice seemed distant, like wherever his brain was it wasn't quite the same room as the rest of him. "Weird doesn't cover it. You aren't who she usually tries to get me together with."

Gwaine waited an equally long time for elaboration, realised it wasn't going to happen unprompted, and couldn't decide between asking how often Morgana tried to fix Merlin up with people and how Gwaine differed from the others (or, for that matter, whether it was a good difference or a bad one), and then there was Leon's _he's not exactly Freya_ comment that Gwaine was dying to find out more about. Chances were, neither of the questions would get an answer, though, and he wasn't exactly ready to start a conversation about any of the people he'd dated, so asking Merlin about his ex would be just a tad hypocritical.

Instead, Gwaine went with, "What do I tell her? Have I called you, or did I fix things with my bloke?"

_Or both_, he added in his head, but thought better than saying it. Morgana didn't seem the sort of person who took being lied to all that well, and Gwaine might not want to be Merlin's secret but he wanted Morgana pissed off with the pair of them even less. And, yeah, that was going to be an obstacle they'd have to deal with at some point, assuming the pair of them lasted as long as Gwaine wanted them to, but some problems it was a lot easier to leave for future-Gwaine to deal with.

"You fixed things," Merlin said, after a moment of thinking about it. Gwaine tried not to feel hurt by it, that Merlin didn't even want to be associated with him as Morgana's attempt at matchmaking, but...well, he was. He was definitely hurt, but damn if he was going to let Merlin know it.

"Right," he said, slightly less nonchalantly than he'd wanted it to sound. "No problem."

Merlin huffed a sigh in his ear. "Not like that, Gwaine. I promise, it's them that's the problem, God love them. If I could trust them to act like adults, it'd be fine, but...Seriously, it's not you. And, anyway, you don't want Morgana to think she was right, do you? She'll never stop crowing about it."

Gwaine had to laugh at that, and yeah, Merlin was right. Morgana was far too powerful already without letting her think she was responsible for Merlin and Gwaine's relationship. And, really, it was time for a new subject, one Gwaine wanted to know about almost as much as he wanted the dirt on Merlin's Freya. "So, while we're talking about Morgana not being right, what's the deal with her and Arthur?"

"How long have you got?" Merlin asked, sounding pleased that Gwaine was letting it go.

"A while," Gwaine answered, figuring that the words _for you, Merlin, I've got all the time in the world_ were probably just a bit too sappy, true as they may have been.

X

The morning after the third time Merlin slept over, Gwaine went into the bathroom to clean and found a toothbrush.

Over the course of the day, three different people asked him why he was so cheerful. He just smiled.

X

He'd ummed and ahhed about meeting Merlin, Morgana and Leon's mates at the pub again, even if all three of them had told him to show up. It was different going there on his own, though, not to mention the possible awkwardness of no one being there when he showed up, and...And Gwaine wasn't a fucking coward, however it might have sounded.

No, it was clean jeans, smart shirt, his motorcycle boots and jacket. Wallet in one pocket, phone the other, locked up and gone. Merlin wasn't staying over every night, didn't see him some days, and calling wasn't a definite thing, anyway; if seeing him with everyone at the pub was what Gwaine was going to get tonight, then he was going to be happy with it, even if it meant pretending they weren't a whole lot more than strangers to each other.

The shiny Merc with the personalised plates was there again, already, but this time Gwaine managed to make the link from the plates to Arthur Pendragon, the rich git Merlin wasn't shagging, and at least Gwaine wasn't going to be the first one there. As it happened, he wasn't the second, either; seemed Merlin had got a ride there with his housemate, since his beat-up junker of a car wasn't in the car park but he was sure as shit sitting next to Arthur at the table.

"Well, hello there, gorgeous," Gwaine said, ambling over to them. "How's it going?"

Merlin grinned up at him from his seat, while Arthur did something halfway between a wince and a flinch. "Erm," he said, meeting Gwaine's eyes but looking like it was seriously uncomfortable for him to do so. "You might have been misled slightly the last time you were here. I'm not actually..."

He trailed off, waving his hand in a way that was probably supposed to communicate an absence of interest in blokes; Gwaine wasn't quite sure _how _it meant that, but he figured he had a better ending to the sentence anyway. "Not actually all that modest, yes. I see that," he said, filling the silence as he circled the table to sit next to Merlin. "You aren't the only person here, blondie."

That got a spluttered laugh from Merlin, as well as a quick squeeze to Gwaine's knee under the table. "Thanks," Merlin murmured, turning the back of his head to Arthur in order to wink at Gwaine, nodding in gratitude for more than just the flirting. "How's life?"

"You're in Morgana's seat," Arthur cut in abruptly, before Gwaine could say anything. "Move."

Okay, right, seemed flirting with Merlin did _not_ go down well with Arthur, even if things were purely platonic between them. Still, the git was just going to have to get used to it; Gwaine flirted with everyone, and he was damn well going to flirt with his (secret) boyfriend if he wanted to. "But it's clearly the best seat in the place," he drawled, seriously tempted to put an arm around Merlin's shoulder. "Besides, don't see her here, do you?"

"Down, boys," Merlin instructed, still grinning even as he placed a calming hand on Arthur's forearm. "Play nicely. We don't want the whole Will thing to happen over again, Arthur."

Arthur smirked in a way that suggested that, whatever _the whole Will thing_ may have been, he actually found it pretty funny, perhaps wouldn't be opposed to a repeat of it. Gwaine, as fun as mocking Arthur might have been, wasn't quite sure enough of his place with Merlin and his friends to risk it, and from what he'd seen, Will wasn't as much a part of the group as the rest of them. "Do my best," he promised, only slightly grudgingly, feeling Merlin's hand flutter against his knee again. He returned the gesture, then sat further back in his seat, increasing the distance between the pair of them slightly; Leon was holding the door open, and God knew Morgana saw absolutely everything, which meant sitting a wee bit close to Merlin after telling her he'd fixed things with his bloke (she'd looked particularly unhappy about that) was probably a bad idea.

She sauntered over to them, smiling in a mildly shark-like way. "Gwaine, dear," she said, softly but just a little threatening. "You're in my seat."

"Told you so," Arthur muttered, smugger than a...very smug thing.

Morgana's eyes flicked between the two of them, assessing and cool. Arthur held her gaze throughout, but then growing up together probably gave him plenty of time to get used to Morgana's ice, time that Gwaine hadn't yet had. "On the other hand," she said, and when Gwaine looked up at her again her eyes were kinder, encouraging, and apparently Gwaine not being single made very little difference to her plans for him and Merlin. "This once, I think you can stay. You don't mind, do you, Merlin?"

"Do you have to drag me into this, 'Gana?" Merlin moaned, standing up and hugging her. "Bad enough that you encourage Arthur and Will. There's no need for you to start another feud."

"Gwaine's far too sensible to let this turn into a war," she answered, clutching at Merlin tightly then shoving him gently towards his seat. "He knows enough to do what I want him to," and that sounded threatening again, and far too pointed for Gwaine not to realise exactly what she was talking about, even as he pulled a face that he hoped suggested he didn't, trying not to meet Leon's eyes. She ruffled Arthur's hair (he immediately combed through it with his fingers in an attempt to fix it, glaring at Gwaine for laughing at him), patted Gwaine's shoulder, and settled into the chair beside him without another word on their seating arrangements, pulling Leon down next to her.

"Who're we waiting for?" she asked, sliding her bag under the table. "I'm gagging for a drink."

X

The week after Merlin's toothbrush appeared in his bathroom, Gwaine found a pair of jeans in his wash basket, legs a couple of inches too long and waist a couple of inches too narrow for them to be his. He bundled them into the machine with his own clothes, figuring Merlin had left them by accident and would remember to take them when he was next there. Then he found a shirt that quite clearly wasn't his either, and the chances of Merlin leaving behind everything but his underwear were pretty minimal. In an uncommon display of concern for the washing, he checked the instructions on the labels in both items of clothing, then chucked them in the machine with the rest of his stuff (what, like he was supposed to know what all the symbols on those things meant?).

When the load was washed and dried, he hung the jeans up and folded the shirt to stick it in his drawers, because why not?

X

"Seriously, Gwaine," Morgana whined, perching on Gwaine's desk rather than the chair that as good as had her name on it these days, what with how long she spent in his office having just this conversation (although she had given up on having it in front of Leon, at least, having worked out she didn't have an ally in him, poor bloke). "Call Merlin."

"I have a boyfriend, Morgana," Gwaine answered, as he usually did.

"Pish," she said, kicking her legs absently and waving a dismissive hand at him. "Break up with him."

"You're psychotic, aren't you? Not everyone has to do what you want them to."

Morgana sniffed at this, like it wasn't worth the effort to give a properly worded response to it, then said, in a somewhat wistful way, "When I rule the world, though..."

Gwaine laughed, then shuddered. "Yeah, well, for the sake of the rest of us, that day's hopefully a long way off."

Morgana sighed, glanced at her watch, then stood up. "I'm going to win this one," she promised, halfway out of the door. "It'd be easier in the long run if you just give in and shag him now."

That, Gwaine didn't quite know how to respond to, but then she was already out the room, so it probably didn't matter too much.

X

The cake batter became something of a tradition on a Friday morning; God knew what Morgana did for a living, but it certainly didn't seem to involve actually doing any work, based on the amount of time she spent at the restaurant. It wasn't unpleasant, of course, because God knew Gwaine loved having the excuse not to do any work himself, but he did have to wonder, given that he knew he didn't pay Leon anywhere near enough to support a woman with Morgana's spending habits.

Still, he became more and more accustomed to seeing her there, and she took to wearing slightly more sensible shoes when she was planning on sticking around to chat, so, really, all was well, apart from her tendency to answer the phone mid-conversation, often mid-sentence.

Leon seemed remarkably unperturbed by this character flaw (not, Gwaine supposed, that he was particularly in a position to comment on other's flaws), even going so far as to point out to her when her phone was ringing on the rare occasions she didn't seem to have noticed it. This was a process that was equal parts baffling and entertaining, and by the fourth week Gwaine had started taking a mental note of the most interesting ones to ask Merlin about later in the day, his favourites being along the lines of, "That's the third time Arthur's called in ten minutes, do you think you should see what he wants?" (_No_, Morgana had responded_. I'm not talking to him until he apologises_, and then had glared at Leon for deigning to suggest that that may have been the purpose of the multiple calls) and, "Work, again, Morgana. Deal with it, please; I would like to see you at some point over the weekend," (a laugh, nothing more, and it took a certain level of gorgeous to manage something that intriguing without it being annoying).

Today, though, things seemed a little not good; Gwaine watched from his mildly rickety stool (how was it that this was his place, and Morgana still got the better seat?) as Leon cocked his head to one side and frowned, visibly listening to something (if it weren't for that fact that he could squish him like a bug, Gwaine would have told him he looked like a golden retriever doing that).

"Isn't Gwen at work this morning?" he asked, and only then did Gwaine pick up on the noise Morgana's bag was making. "What's she doing ringing you?"

Morgana frowned, hopping down from her seat to dig around in her bag. "She is," Morgana answered, "I don't know." The ringing got briefly louder as she pulled her horrendously expensive mobile free, then silenced all together. "Gwen, what's up?"

Through the thirty seconds of conversation that followed, Morgana's face grew increasingly pale; Gwaine had no doubt that had the call gone on any longer, she would have resorted to pacing. "Right," she said, when Gwen seemed to be done. "I'm on it. Thanks, Gwen. See you later."

There was a long moment of silence after she hung up, during which Gwaine looked from her to Leon and back again, desperately fighting the urge to ask what was going down; he might be new to their little group, but he had kind of thought they were friends, and if they're worried, he's worried. He didn't ask, though; Morgana was on the phone again, trailing one hand through her hair as she muttered to herself. "Pick up, pick up, pick up, let this be nothing, please, things have been going so well lately." The phone clearly went right through to voicemail, because she made a noise that was half-groan, half-snarl (disturbingly hot, too, Gwaine thought), and immediately hung up, only to start the whole process again.

"Who's...?" Gwaine started to ask Leon, only to stop when he saw the concern on the other man's face, staring at Morgana like she was the only thing in the world. _Right then_, Gwaine would just call Merlin later and ask him.

"Oh, shit fuck bugger," Morgana announced, the phone shoved back into the depths of her handbag. "I need to go, love," she continued, breaking from her pacing to close in on Leon. "It's a bad day today, I think. It has to just be a bad day."

There was some kind of telepathic field between them, Gwaine was sure, that allowed sentences like that to be perfectly understood. Rather than asking what the bad day was, why Gwen had called, who it was Morgana had been trying to get hold of, Leon just hugged her with a force that must have been crushing on her slender frame. "I'll see you there later," he promised, pulling back. "Let me know what...how bad it is, okay?"

Morgana nodded, stared up at him like letting go hurt, then turned on her heel and left so quickly that she might as well have vanished in a puff of smoke.

"What's the-" _problem_, Gwaine began, shutting up sharpish when Leon spoke over him.

"I think I'll need to leave early tonight, please," he said, and no sentence containing the words _I think_ and _please_ should be able to sound like a demand, but this one did. "I'll make sure everything's taken care of, and the guys should be able to handle everything."

"Right," Gwaine agreed, reluctant, a little bit confused. "Sure, that's fine. Hope whatever it is is okay." And he wasn't going to ask again, wasn't going to feel hurt by the fact that Morgana and Leon were clearly worried (Gwen, too, given that she'd called Morgana and started all this) and weren't going to tell him why.

Besides, he thought, heading out of the kitchen and to his office (whatever it was, the party was definitely over; no one could have fun when Leon was looming over them all thunderous with concern), he could always ask Merlin, anyway.

X

Thing was, Merlin wasn't answering his phone, not either of them. The Morgana-phone was turned off, the other ringing through to voicemail over and over, no matter how often Gwaine tried it.

He explained it the following day, when Gwaine finally managed to get hold of him, as Morgana having a family emergency that he was somehow part of, nothing more than that, everything was fine, which was no kind of answer at all. Gwaine didn't push it, but that sure as shit didn't mean he was okay with it.

One day, he promised himself, waiting for Merlin to be done in the shower so he could take his (after the first time, they hadn't shared again, and Gwaine was still pretending he hadn't noticed that he'd never seen Merlin with his shirt off, still not asking about it, spent far too much time wondering what Merlin was hiding from him, terrible scarring or embarrassing tattoo or something else entirely). One day he was going to know all of Merlin's secrets, and their whole gang was going to know who Gwaine was and that he was there for the long haul.

X

A month and a half after the first time, a month and a half of having Merlin stay in his bed, two weeks after the radio silence and Gwaine feeling shut out and unwanted, a pack of tablets appeared on the ledge under his bathroom mirror. No box with prescription info, no handy advice leaflet that told Gwaine what they were for, just the pills. Green and yellow capsules, clear plastic, shiny silver foil on the top of it.

_Fluoxetine_, Gwaine read, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth, examining it from all sides, like the answer to what it was doing in his house would suddenly become apparent. Merlin had to know he'd left it there, even if he didn't mention it at all; the tablets kept disappearing from it, one each morning Merlin stayed over.

He got as far as typing it into Google, not quite brave enough to hit search. If Merlin wanted Gwaine to know why he was taking them, he'd have told him, half of Gwaine's brain said, while the other half insisted that Merlin leaving them there, where Gwaine was definitely going to see them, was invitation to look. He could have hidden them if he didn't want him to know, presumably had been hiding them, and...but maybe it was a test of Gwaine's trust, maybe it was Merlin wanting to find out if Gwaine believed in him, them, enough to wait for Merlin to say. Maybe...

Gwaine shut the lid to his laptop, turned on the radio Merlin had magically repaired, and grabbed a beer from the fridge, deciding yet again to ignore the arguments in his brain and the desire to find out, to know Merlin.

Things were good between them, after all, and, much as it bugged him, Gwaine would rather Merlin kept his secrets if him knowing them was going to change that.


	12. Oceans

**Notes: **Review replies coming soon, promise. Do not doubt that I seriously appreciate getting them, though. Next one shouldn't take much more than a fortnight, since it's a good way towards being done already. And, because I feel the need to say it again, read the warnings from last chapter. This one fits into the previous one, when Merlin is incommunicado, but it works better alone, I think. And enjoy is really the wrong sentiment here, so I'll just not say it. Peach.

**We Are Young**

**Oceans**

Sometimes Merlin knows it's coming. He's yet to work out what triggers it, really, why some days are darker than others, why sometimes every single thing reminds him of her and the life he lost with her, but sometimes it's detectable in advance, predicted in days that seem progressively darker no matter how brightly the sun shines, hours that drag like the friction between tectonic plates, sentences that he misses the end of despite his best efforts to pay attention.

Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes the crushing pressure of his depression strikes suddenly, as unanticipated and endlessly dark as nightfall in the middle of the day. Sometimes it bursts into bloom without warning, sweeping him away into a vast emptiness that is less about Freya's absence than it is himself and all the ways in which his life has been blown off course because of it.

He takes his pills each day, talks to his shrink once a fortnight, goes running in the park with Arthur every few days, eats his five a day and fish on Fridays, everything he's supposed to do to be healthy and _happy_. He does everything he is supposed to do, but Merlin lives in the real world rather than one of dreams and films and novels, and what is supposed to work doesn't always. The dark days come back, almost as all-consuming as they were in the past, without his permission, whether he anticipates them or not.

Today it is unexpected.

Merlin wakes up without breath, without a heartbeat, with only a crippling emptiness in place of everything that keeps him whole. He wakes up weighed down by an exhaustion that is not only bone-deep but heavy in his mind, twisting everything he tries to be nowadays into the blank, bleak mess he was before he got the help he needed and wasn't strong enough to ask for. It is endless, a lake so dark and deep and ice cold that the only solution is to stay in bed, wrapped up in a nest of quilts and blankets and suffocating warmth that doesn't stop him from feeling frozen on the inside.

Morgana appears around lunchtime, letting herself into the house and telling him something about Gwen calling when Merlin didn't show up for work. There is the gentle clunk of a mug being put down on his bedside table before she pulls away enough of his blankets that she can burrow in beside him, wrapping her arms around him.

The pressure lessens a little as she holds him, her faced pressed against his hair, and he finds he can breathe again. "I remember when," Morgana says, her voice the gentle thing he's only ever known it to be for him on days like this, and Merlin falls asleep to her telling him about the first day she and Gwen took Freya shopping with them, her tone saying _we loved her too_ even when her words don't, in a way that manages to lighten his loss, sharing rather than trivialising it.

When he wakes again it is night and Gwen is curled up in the nest beside him, somehow having managed to make her way in there without waking him. Lancelot and Will sit at the foot of his bed, both looking up from their game of cards frequently to glance at him, neither commenting when they see he's awake, while Leon stands by the door, strong and silent and steady as a rock. Elyan and Percival are in the living room, their conversation barely audible over the soft hum of the TV, and the angry hiss of Morgana's voice as she paces in the hallway doesn't quite cover the sound of her feet on the carpet as she paces.

"You bastard," she says. "You utter, selfish bastard. The next time I see you, Arthur, I swear to God I-" she breaks off, muttering about fucking voicemail and bastards and brothers.

"Morgana," Merlin calls, hoarse and tired, wrestling himself to seated, jostling Gwen as he does so despite his efforts not to. He doesn't need to tell her to leave it, not when he sounds so utterly wretched that just his voice has her rushing into the room, hair askew and clothes rumpled from her lying in his bed all day. She pushes her mobile into Leon's hands – there waiting for it, like he always knows just what she's going to need from him – and sits next to him, hauling him back into her arms before his tears can start properly. Gwen wraps herself around him from his other side and Lancelot rests a hand in his leg while Will makes a face like he thinks it's all disgustingly soppy but stays regardless.

"I'm sorry," Merlin manages to gasp, and it's a good thing that he can be amazed by the fact that they're all putting their lives on hold for him, to be with him when he's broken and buried by his illness, because it means this is getting easier already, that this time it's only going to be a single day of feeling like this rather than two or three, a week or more. "I'm sorry," he repeats, because they give so much for him, far more than he deserves, and ask for nothing in return.

Morgana, whose sharp edges soften more for him than anyone outside of this house could ever believe; Gwen, who loves so much she should burst from it; Will, who still sees in the wreck of a man Merlin is the boy he once was, whole and healthy and capable of one day coming back to them. Lancelot, patience deeper than the ocean; Leon, steady as a rock, calmer than the most placid lake; Percival, who Merlin didn't even know back then but maybe because of that manages to hold them all together so much easier; Elyan, the physical embodiment of not letting the past define the future.

Arthur.

Even Arthur, who will be the best friend imaginable for days after this – watching whatever Merlin wants to watch without complaint, eating what Merlin likes even when he hates it, bending over backwards to try make amends for Freya dying and Merlin trying to follow her though no one has ever, ever suggested that they blame him for it – but will never, ever be here when Merlin most needs him to be.


	13. Interrogations (I)

**Notes: **Look, look, it's only been just over a fortnight and I'm already updating again. Aren't you proud of me? Standard warnings/disclaimer apply, can't stick them in separately because it is lunchtime and my phone is being uncooperative. This one is way cheerier than the last, so inviting you to enjoy it isn't as odd a thing to do as last time. So yeah. Enjoy.

**Chapter Thirteen - Interrogations (I)**

Gwaine heard Morgana approaching long before he saw her, the click of her heels impossibly loud on the wooden floors; he'd given up wondering how she kept getting into the building, seeing as Leon had sworn he wasn't lending her his keys, but it didn't mean it wasn't a little unnerving to have her turning up at all hours of the day.

But, on the plus side, at least he had plenty of warning, and enough time to steel himself for another one of her mildly insane conversations. He was just nicely buried in work when she stalked into his office, sitting in the other chair like it was a throne and proceeding to stare at him. Not that Gwaine was looking at her, was going to acknowledge her at all until she announced her presence, but still. Morgana's stares were felt just as much as they were seen.

"You should bring him to meet us," Morgana said, no preamble or anything; greetings were, apparently, for plebeians, and Morgana would never sink so low as to being a conversation with _hello_.

"What's that, now?" Gwaine asked, putting his pen down and looking up at her.

"This guy, name _still_ unknown, who's apparently so much better than Merlin." She was smiling, certainly, but there was something sharp to it, something that matched the sour tone of her voice. Still not letting that go, then, Gwaine realised, and it was starting to not be funny anymore. "Bring him to the pub one week."

"And I want to do that because...?"

"I'm telling you to." It was a shark-smile, Gwaine decided, without which this couldn't be considered any sort of reasonable argument. With it, though, Gwaine would definitely be considering making an introduction, if such a thing was at all possible. "Really, though," Morgana continued, still fierce but probably not dangerously so. "You're one of us, now, or as good as. That means we get to have a say."

Well, that was oddly flattering, but completely not happening. "Not a snowball's chance in hell, Morgana. I'm not risking you lunatics scaring him off."

"Pity," she said, pouting. "It was such a good plan..."

Gwaine laughed, even if he was half sure she wasn't joking.

X

"So," Merlin said, drawing Gwaine's attention from the TV (not that it was all that interesting a program to begin with, but sitting on the sofa and just staring at his boyfriend while his boyfriend was watching TV was just a wee bit past borderline creepy). "I know you're being all responsible about your job, after that thing with the fighting waitresses, but how do you feel about taking Saturday off?"

"That would depend on why, I suppose. You want the last spring roll?" He picked the plate up from the coffee table and held it towards Merlin, taking the spring roll for himself when Merlin shook his head.

"There's some sort of Pendragon family gathering over the weekend," Merlin said, nestling closer now that he was done eating. "So I have the house to myself."

"And?" Gwaine asked, slightly baffled. He lived alone, after all, and it wasn't like he'd ever felt the need to take the weekend off just because (well, not so much that he'd ever actually been tempted to do it, at least).

"And you wouldn't believe how nice a bathroom we have?" Merlin offered, his hand a suggestive weight on Gwaine's thigh. "Seriously, I think you can swim in the bathtub."

"Well, if you're going to put it that way," Gwaine said, twisting in his seat and resting a hand on the back of Merlin's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. He hadn't taken a day off in a while, after all, and his own bathroom wasn't exactly made for more than one occupant at a time.

X

Gwaine opened the front door of Merlin and Arthur's with a grin on his face and a twenty pound note in his hands and paused, blinking at the slight brunette on the doorstep. "You aren't the pizza," he said, then winced at just how intelligent a remark that was.

"And you are neither my son nor the man he lives with," she answered, fixing him with a keen gaze, "Which rather begs the question why you are opening the door to their house. In my experience, burglars tend not to order pizza."

Gwaine's brain decided that the surprised blink was definitely the way to go right now, utterly failing to provide him with anything close to a suitable vocalised response.

"Hmm," the woman – Merlin's _mother_, and why the hell didn't Merlin tell him his mother was going to be stopping by when he invited Gwaine over? – continued. "Perhaps you are unintelligent enough to break into a place and then order food..."

She left the sentence hanging there, and eventually Gwaine's brain clicked into action. "Sorry," he managed, stepping aside. "Merlin's in the kitchen. Is...is he expecting you?"

"About as much as you were, dear," she said, leaving a bag in the hall by Gwaine's bare feet and her shoes neatly under a table before making her way into the kitchen. Gwaine shut his mouth and the door, then made his way around Merlin's mum to get to the kitchen before her.

"Where's...?" Merlin asked, turning around with a pair of plates in his hands.

"Not here yet. Your mum is, though."

Merlin's face didn't fall at that, exactly, but he did pull a weird expression, halfway between delight and disappointment, which was sort of how Gwaine would react to a surprise visit from his mother in the middle of a weekend with his boyfriend. Of course, this not being his mam, Gwaine was rather more on the side of disappointed than pleased, with a side helping of wanting to be elsewhere.

"Mum," Merlin said, putting the plates down and schooling his face into a less dismal expression before enfolding her in a hug. "This is...a surprise, really."

"Yes, well," she answered, pulling back and staring up at him. "I got tired of waiting for you to come home. Morgana told me she and Arthur were away for the weekend, so I thought I'd stop by. If I'd known you had plans, I might have waited."

Merlin took that as the cue it was quite clearly intended to be, crossing the room to stand by Gwaine's side and sliding their hands together. "Mum, this is Gwaine," he said, and Gwaine braced himself for his next words; _Leon's boss_, maybe, or _a friend_, but not the truth. It sucked, but then he'd let it go on too long to object to it now, and even if he was only going to be introduced as a friend, he still kind of wanted to make a good impression.

"Hunith, please," Merlin's mum said, sticking out her hand; Gwaine shook it obligingly, still waiting for something more. "I've heard so much about you," she continued, the smile on her face a lot like some of Merlin's softer ones, like someone who had learnt better than to offer a bright and beaming grin to a stranger.

"Have you?" Gwaine asked, surprise taking the words from him before he had chance to think better of them.

"Oh, yes," she answered, joining Gwaine in ignoring Merlin's half-offended expression. "He talks about you a lot."

Well, that was something, at least. "Nothing good, I imagine," Gwaine said, grinning as he squeezed Merlin's hand once, simultaneously grateful and a little bit irked that someone knowing about them was rare enough for him to feel grateful for it.

"Nothing but, dear," Hunith said. "Nothing but."

X

As weekends went, it wasn't a bad one. Certainly, Gwaine had had better ones, and his plan on pigging out on pizza before sharing a long, hot bath with Merlin was seriously out of the window, but it wasn't bad.

The pizza showed up mere minutes after Gwaine had put the kettle on and Merlin took Hunith and her bags upstairs to show her to one of the many spare rooms; the three of them sat around the table in the kitchen, drinking tea (given that he was the house of two teetotallers, Gwaine thought beer, even one he'd brought from home, was sort of a no-no, not least because the bottles in the recycling would definitely tip off Arthur to someone not-Merlin being there) and eating pizza. Hunith broke out a whole load of stories about Merlin as a kid, growing up in the arse-crack of nowhere, most of which involved Gwen or Will and had Merlin blushing terribly and Gwaine trying not to laugh too much.

When every last crumb had been devoured, Gwaine found himself sent upstairs to dig board games out of a wardrobe in one of the spare rooms. Digging something out took a while, when the cupboard seemed deep enough to contain the portal to Narnia (no fur coats, though, and a definite lack of mothballs, thank God), but within a few minutes he had a stack of games in his arms, mostly those he thought he stood a chance of winning. If playing board games was what Merlin wanted them and his mum to be doing, board games were what Merlin was going to get, but if Gwaine was bidding goodbye to his weekend of fun, he was going to be picking games he might not actually lose.

He was most of the way to the bottom of the stairs before he heard their voices, and it wasn't exactly kosher for him to stand outside the door eavesdropping but...well, Merlin hadn't told him his mum knew about them, and he just wanted to know what they were saying. It was going to be about him, after all, since they'd waited until he left the room to start, and...Gwaine should probably be ashamed of how little effort it took to convince himself he had the right to know, but shame had never been a good look on him.

"...You happy?" Hunith was saying as Gwaine allowed himself to pause briefly outside the door to the living room, her voice raising at the end enough for Gwaine to know it was a question.

"I am, Mum," Merlin answered, voice quiet. "I like him." Gwaine grinned; it wasn't like Merlin hadn't said it to him before, but that didn't mean he didn't seriously enjoy hearing it said to someone else.

"I figured as much, love," Hunith said, sort of wryly. "You've not told me about anyone since Freya."

"There hasn't _been_ anyone since Freya," Merlin replied, the earnestness in his voice stark and painful to hear; it wasn't true, Merlin had as good as told him that there'd been a whole load of people since the mysterious Freya, and if Merlin could sound that honest about a lie, how many other times had Gwaine believed a lie from him? How many other times had Gwaine decided to believe something he doubted because Merlin said it in that tone of voice?

Merlin continued, though, equally earnest, and his words were enough to reassure Gwaine, enough to make him feel guilty for his doubt, momentary though it had been. "I mean, there's been people, I've not been a hermit, but there's not been anyone important. Gwaine's the first one who matters."

That, Gwaine decided, was quite enough listening in. Eavesdroppers weren't meant to hear anything nice about themselves, after all, and it was better for Gwaine to vanish before that was true for him as well. He headed back up a couple of steps as quietly as he could, then stomped down them again with deliberately more volume and used his elbow to open the door.

"I've got Monopoly," he said, brandishing the games in his arm. "Scrabble and Cluedo, too, but I'm convinced not all games of Monopoly end as violently as they do in my family, and you seem normal enough to put that theory to the test."

"Monopoly it is," Merlin agreed, turning one of his ridiculous grins to Gwaine. "And if you want to see a sane game, never play with the Pendragons. Morgana cheats."

That wasn't something Gwaine needed convincing of, funnily enough. "And Arthur?" he asked. "Bet he loves that."

"He did, actually. It gave him an excellent excuse to be such a terrible loser. Seriously, don't do it."

X

"Merlin, you're out of milk. Be a love and run to the shop for some more, please." Gwaine watched as Merlin cast a deeply sceptical look at Hunith, holding it for a long moment before huffing a sigh and nodding. He rose from his seat on the sofa next to Gwaine, glancing at the chessboard on the coffee table in front of them like he was memorising the position of the pieces (entirely unnecessary, because whilst Gwaine was shit at the game – he had no patience, or so he'd been told for years, but he kind of thought his relationship with Merlin disproved that idea – he wasn't bothered enough about winning to cheat, particularly not after his spectacular real estate victory last night) before heading towards the entrance hall.

Gwaine waited until he heard the front door open and close before looking at Hunith, because he wasn't foolish enough to believe there actually was a milk shortage, not when he'd made pancakes for breakfast only a couple of hours ago. To his half-surprise, she was smiling at him; Merlin might have said good things about him last night, but Hunith was still his mother, and with how overprotective Merlin kept saying his friends were, Gwaine wasn't particularly expecting a whole lot less from his mum.

"A cup of tea, I think," she said, apparently having been waiting for Gwaine to give her his full attention. "Interrogations are always so much more comfortable with tea and biscuits. We'll sit in the kitchen."

She turned and walked from the living room and Gwaine followed (seeing as the alternative was staying put and practising his fish impression, he figured he had to). He also obeyed all instructions to locate mugs, and opened the fridge when requested to find – surprise, surprise – exactly the same amount of milk as there had been when he'd put the bottle away.

"How long have you known my son?" she asked, placing two mugs of tea and a plate of digestive biscuits on the table.

"Hasn't Merlin told you all this?" Gwaine asked; even if Hunith knew about him, he didn't know how much she knew, and while he'd told his own mam pretty much everything, it was Merlin's business how much Hunith knew.

"He has. That doesn't mean I don't want to hear it from you as well. How long have you known him?"

"I met him about three and a half, four months ago?" Gwaine hedged, hoping that, in the interest of not giving away anything Merlin didn't want him to, he'd get away with answering a question that wasn't quite what she'd asked. "We've been dating a bit less than that, just over three months, or there abouts."

Hunith shook her head and dunked a biscuit in her tea. Gwaine tried not to wrinkle his nose. "You seem to be a smart young man, Gwaine," she stated, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice (odd, because Gwaine was fairly sure he seemed anything but). "Smart enough to know that that wasn't what I asked, at least."

"It was worth a shot," Gwaine muttered, then raised his voice to a more normal level. "I don't know him, I don't think. I want to, but...I don't know if he wants me to."

Hunith reached across the table and patted his hand, lying next to his mug of tea (untouched, because in his experience tea was what all interrogators used to lull their victims into a false sense of security). "I know my son," she said softly. "He hasn't even told me about anyone special in his life for years, let alone mentioned wanting to introduce them to me; this might not have been how he planned it, but he was planning it. If you don't know him by now, it's not because he doesn't want you to. It's because he's scared you won't still like him when you do."

"Stupid of him," Gwaine told her, finally taking a slurp of his tea (she'd already asked him about his job and house and family and car during the meal and games last night, and this didn't seem too likely to head in the direction of quizzing him about his intentions, and even if it was Gwaine was going to be damn clear about them. He and Merlin were happening, and anyone who found out and didn't like it could piss off, as far as he was concerned, although maybe if he was going to tell Merlin's mum that he'd phrase it a little better). "If I wasn't sure I liked him, I wouldn't have spent so much time trying to date him."

Hunith looked at him, a twinkle in her eye that suggested she knew exactly what the issue had been. Gwaine found it more than a little disturbing (some things mothers should just not know, even ones like Merlin's). "Yes, well. He's had a rough few years." Her face turned distant, and Gwaine wondered what those years had been like for her, watching her only child go through whatever Merlin had. "He likes you, though, of that I'm sure. How about his friends? You've obviously met them."

"More than a few times, yeah. Not as his...boyfriend, or anything." He didn't know why the hesitation before he said it, other than that it wasn't a term he'd yet used aloud in relation to he and Merlin, largely because neither of them had had to introduce the other to anyone. "Leon works in the restaurant, although I didn't know Merlin knew him when we got together."

"Does it bother you?"

"What, that the only decent friends I have are also Merlin's friends and because of that fact no one can know who I'm dating?" _Ouch_, Gwaine realised as he finished, because that sounded just a little more serious than he wanted it to, and far too much like he was attacking both Merlin's decisions and his mother. "Sorry," he said. "That didn't come out like I wanted it to. It's just...Difficult, sometimes. Remembering not to mention him by name when Morgana asked me how a date went, or not being couple-y where people might see it, or...yeah." Because apparently whiny bitch was his default setting lately, when he wasn't snapping at innocent strangers.

"I understand, dear," Hunith said, and Gwaine shouldn't have thought she wouldn't; she was Merlin's mother, and Gwaine really ought to have known she'd be just as kind as Merlin was. "I know it's not my place to ask you to be patient, but he's my boy. I can't not believe he's worth you waiting for him."

Gwaine smiled, knowing it had to look just a tad shaky, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I am waiting. Glad you know, though. Feel a bit less like he's ashamed of me."

"Not ashamed, Gwaine. He just doesn't want to care you off, or have his friends do it for him. They can be overzealous at times." She smiled back at him, so sincerely that, just like with Merlin, Gwaine couldn't actually doubt it. "I am so glad he met you, though. You're just what he needs."

"Thank you," Gwaine said. "Thank you."

She smiled, patted his hand again, and then stood and moved her mug the short distance to the sink. "Finish your tea, dear. Then go look at the chessboard. You'll want to move one of your knights when Merlin gets back, otherwise you'll lose your queen."

X

"Sorry," Merlin said later, standing on the front step as he waved his mother off. "I know it's not exactly the weekend we had planned."

"No," Gwaine said. "It wasn't, was it?" He smiled as he said it, though, and from the grin Merlin gave him in return, it was pretty clear Merlin knew it wasn't a complaint.

X

Percival, despite being the biggest bloke Gwaine could remember meeting, apparently had a thing for tiny women, if the girl standing beside him was any indication. She was dainty as anything, dark haired and pale and fragile looking, one of those girls whose very being screamed _protect me_, an effect that was only emphasised by the way she stood in Percival's shadow.

"Evenin'," Gwaine said, ambling towards the door and another fun evening of flirting with Merlin right under everyone's noses (and it was a bad sign, wasn't it, that even he didn't know if he was being serious or sarcastic anymore). "How's it going, mate?"

Percival offered him a smile and a nod, very little in the way of words, while the girl stepped forwards, swapping her cigarette from her right hand to her left. "Hi," she said softly, offering Gwaine her free hand in a gesture so pointed he genuinely wondered for a moment if he was supposed to kiss it rather than shake it. "Lamia. I work with Percival."

"Gwaine," he answered, stepping backwards to avoid the puff of smoke she exhaled. "Nice to meet you," he added, because, contrary to popular opinion, he did have some manners, enough to pretend he hadn't heard all kinds of horrible things from Merlin about this girl who had Percival wrapped so effortlessly around her little finger. "Chuffing cold, isn't it?" Gwaine asked; look, there was tact as well as politeness. His mam would be so proud. "I'll see you inside, yeah."

He didn't quite make it as far as the door before Percival's hand closed around his arm, head ducked down enough that he could almost whisper to him. "Just a heads up," he said quietly, with enough urgency to freeze Gwaine in his place. "I know you think messing with Arthur is funny and all, but the girl you'll meet tonight, Gwen? Completely off limits. You have any sense, you won't even think about it."

"I'll take that under consideration," Gwaine promised, and if Merlin hadn't told him months ago about the slight love triangle his friends had going on, he'd be wondering why Percival thought it necessary to warm him off the only single woman in the group but not mention his own girlfriend. As it was, he just shrugged off the hand and went inside, glancing over at the full table before heading up to the bar.

Morgana joined him there before he was halfway through ordering everyone's regular drinks, then stood by with an approving smile as he managed to remember all of those that he knew (a little unflattering, really, because he really wasn't an idiot). "Skip one of the pints," she said when he was done, smiling at the bartender far more than at him. "Leon couldn't make it. And a G&T for Gwen."

Gwaine waited for one more, raising an eyebrow at her when it apparently wasn't happening. "Percival's girl?" he asked.

Morgana sniffed. "Lamia can get her own," she said, shark-smiling at him.

"And you wonder why I'm not in a rush to introduce my boyfriend to you all..."

"That's different, Gwaine, really. Lamia's a bitch." She patted Gwaine's arm, small comfort when paired with her seriously harsh tone. "And since you've already met her, I figure Percival already warned you about Gwen. But I'm going to tell you anyway. _Don't_."

A second threat – and coming from Morgana, too – had Gwaine giving the matter some definite thought, although maybe not in the direction Morgana was wanting. It wasn't likely that Gwaine would have done anything, because flirting with other people in any kind of major way in front of his boyfriend was just brutal; even with all the lies and shit Merlin had put him through, he'd never done that, and Gwaine damn well wasn't going to do it to him. At the same time, though, the more people told him not to do something, the more he wanted to do it, and two warnings was just about his limit; any more than that, and he'd be honour-bound to proposition Gwen rather than introducing himself to her.

He picked up a tray with half their drinks on it, leaving the other for Morgana to carry, and ambled over to the table, plonking the drinks on the table and his arse on the seat two over from Merlin's. He'd figured it was Leon's, given that it was empty, but if Leon wasn't there...his sister's birthday, Gwaine vaguely recalled him saying, which presumably left that seat as his. "Evening, all," he said, securing his drink before shoving the tray far enough over for everyone to grab their own.

There was an exchange of greetings, and then gratitude, during which Percival and his girl returned; Lamia was clearly ignorant of this Morgana-engineered slight, but Percival seemed more than a little annoyed, if the look he levelled Gwaine with was any indication. He didn't say anything (and what a surprise that was), but with a bloke that size silence was just as intimidating as words would be.

"Gwaine," Elyan said, when Percival had returned with Lamia's drink. "You've not met my sister yet, have you? Gwen, Gwaine works with Leon."

"Nice to meet you," Gwaine answered, nodding at the girl beside Elyan, and oh, major bollocks, he had met her. The link between Gwen, Elyan's sister/Arthur's ex/Lancelot's ill-advised fling, and Gwen, the girl who did the baking at the shop Merlin worked at, who came over to deal with Merlin's mess the first time Gwaine met Merlin, hadn't actually occurred to him, but in hindsight they were obviously going to be the same person. Of course they were, and aside from the awkwardness of having her, Lance and Arthur all sitting at the same table, this really wasn't good.

Gwen frowned at him, not angry but sort of confused. "Do I know you?" she asked. "You look familiar."

Gwaine didn't dare glance at Merlin, not with Morgana sitting between them, and, orders or otherwise, there was only one real way to avoid trouble here. "Not a chance, love," he said, grinning at her and doing his best to ignore the sudden hostility attacking him from all sides. "Believe me, if we'd met, I'd've made damn sure you'd remember it."

The heel of Morgana's shoe ground down into his foot, Gwen stared like a deer in headlights, Percival went from looking mildly menacing to utterly despairing, and Gwaine didn't even want to glance in the direction of Arthur and Lance. Merlin, on the other hand, seemed fairly amused and just a tad relieved, so at least Gwaine's act of near-suicidal stupidity had one upside.

X

"My round, this one?" Merlin asked, standing before anyone could answer him. "Gwaine, help me carry them."

"For you, darling, anything," Gwaine answered, his flirting this time met not by shock and awe but by tolerant smiles (with the exception of Arthur, of course, who was still pulling faces like he was sitting on a red-hot poker).

"Careful with offers like that, Gwaine," Morgana called after them. "One day, he might take you up on it."

Gwaine laughed, waiting until they were out of hearing range before speaking again. "Is today that day, then?"

Merlin looked at him, then over his shoulder at the table. "I want to," he said, feather soft but so very earnest. "I really do, but..."

"Arthur's being a moody git and you feel like you should keep an eye on him?" Gwaine offered, because when wasn't Merlin's hesitation something to do with him. And he did try to be understanding about it, because if he hadn't been such a feckless git during his formative years he might have friendships like that too, but sometimes, it sucked.

Clearly, something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Merlin wrinkled his nose, gave the table one last look, and smiled. "If we can get him to laugh before the end of the evening, I'm all yours," he promised. "Deal?"

Since it was the best he was going to get, Gwaine figured the only real answer he could give was a yes. "Deal," he said, risking a quick squeeze of Merlin's hand and mentally running through his very best jokes.

That got him one of Merlin's blinding grins, the sort that still had the power to simultaneously calm all of his nerves and send his insides twisting into a ball of fire, even if they rarely lasted all that long. "About Gwen," Merlin said after a second. "If I'd known she was going to be here, I'd've warned you. You did a fairly good job of dealing with it, though, even if the guys want your head on a platter for it."

Gwaine half-smiled, not quite sure what to say. Being warned about Gwen showing up wouldn't have done any good, because he still would have been there, and Merlin wouldn't have told him not to be. Hell, he was mostly uncertain about whether he'd done the right thing in throwing Gwen off the scent, because he wanted people to know. The secrecy thing sucked, and even if Gwaine hadn't worked up the courage to confront Merlin about just when exactly he planned to let people know, it didn't mean he didn't want to, and it didn't mean helping Merlin keep it, him, a secret didn't make him feel unwanted and just a little bit unclean, even with everything Hunith and Merlin had said to try convince him otherwise.

"Whatever, Merlin," he said, grabbing one of the trays. "Let's see if we can get blondie to laugh, yeah?"

He was back at the table and halfway through the set up for the joke about the two nuns in a bath (utterly tasteless, but pretty much guaranteed a snicker) by the time Merlin finished handing out his tray of drinks and sat down, his elbow skidding across the table and into Arthur's glass.

"Oh, shoot," he exclaimed, glass tumbling and lemonade splashing across the table. "Damnit, Arthur, I'll go pick you up another one."

Arthur smiled, seeming less than bothered, while Morgana produced a stack of napkins from nowhere and set to mopping up the mess.

"I do know you!" Gwen announced, fairly loudly and completely out of the blue, and Merlin froze on his way back up to the bar. "I do!"

"Nope," Gwaine said, slightly desperately, under the unwavering scrutiny of the rest of the table thanks to Gwen's pointing finger. "Don't think you do."

She shook her head, expression stuck between disappointed and amused. "You came into the shop one day," Gwen said, apparently oblivious to the way everything about Merlin was screaming for her to shut up. "It didn't click until now, when Merlin knocked the drink over. He spilt coffee on you."

Morgana stopped the clear-up attempt, staring at Gwen for a long moment before locking on to Gwaine, far scarier than any man-made missile ever could be. "You-" she started, but any further words were drowned out by laughter, mostly Arthur but he definitely wasn't the only one.

So on the upside, Gwaine probably wouldn't be going home alone that night. Downside, Morgana might accidentally take out Merlin as well when she broke into Gwaine's house to kill him and hide his corpse someplace no one would ever find it.


	14. Interrogations (II)

**Notes: **Okay, yeah, I managed the last update in about two weeks. Only fair that this one takes three months. Yeah, sorry about that. But I hope you enjoy it anyway, and forgive me when I continue to be seriously sloppy when it comes to update schedules. Later, Peach.

**Chapter Fourteen - Interrogations (II)**

"Shut up, Morgana," Gwaine hissed under the sound of Gwen explaining Merlin's accidental coffee assault all those months ago, smiling what was probably the least sincere smile ever as he did so. "You can slaughter me for lying to you later, but for God's sake _shut up._ He doesn't want everyone to know."

Morgana heard his gaze for a long moment, her expression threatening violence of the worst kind, cruel and calculating and far more beautiful than should be allowed, fingernails carving grooves into his arm. Then she smiled, and that was even worse.

"Merlin," she called, letting go of Gwaine, and it was more the look of worry on Merlin's face that made Gwaine flinch, rather than the blood welling in the half-moon cuts on his arm. "Aren't you supposed to be getting Arthur another drink? I'm sure we can wait to laugh at your appalling clumsiness until you get back."

X

He wasn't actually expecting Merlin to come home with him that night, even though he'd said he would. That was before Gwen spilled the beans, and, honestly, Gwaine figured Merlin would leave with Morgana and attempt to explain the whole shebang to her.

He didn't, though; within seconds of Gwaine entering his home, Merlin was there, banging on the door until Gwaine put down the kettle and let him in.

"Don't," Merlin said, the door still open behind him, wrapping himself around Gwaine, seeming to have way more pairs of arms than the average person as he did so. "Please, Gwaine. Please don't."

"Hey," Gwaine answered softly, taking Merlin with him as he stepped backwards to shut the door. "I'm here, Merlin. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't know that," Merlin said, pressing the words into Gwaine's neck, still holding way too fucking tightly. "You _don't_."

Gwaine ran his hands up and down Merlin's back, attempting to calm him, preferably before he bruised too badly. "You can't have thought this would last forever," he said. "Your friends were always going to know, Merlin, and do you really think I'm unhappy about Morgana finding out?"

"You don't understand."

"Then _tell_ me. I'm not psychic, Merlin," Gwaine made an effort to soften his voice, even as he placed a hand on each of Merlin's shoulders and held him still as he stepped backwards, out of Merlin's arms. "I can't understand anything if you don't tell me." He wasn't expecting an answer, not really, but it was still a tad disappointing not to get one.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Gwaine said after a moment. "I'm sorry I'm not more unhappy about this, but I am _not_ going to leave you just because your friends might not like me dating you."

"I want to believe you," Merlin said. "You have no idea how much."

Gwaine hugged him again, pretty sure it wasn't going to do damn bit of good. Merlin might say he wanted to believe him, might even be telling the truth when he said it, but the only thing that was going to convince him Gwaine was there to stay was Gwaine staying, and the only way to show that was with time. "I was just going to make a drink," he said, squeezing Merlin tightly before letting him go. "You want something?"

"Tea, please," Merlin answered, smiling in that _I'm okay, really, so please don't ask me_ way that only ever happened when someone was a long way from okay. "Bring it upstairs with you?"

X

"So what're you going to do?" Leon asks, when she's finished describing her oh-so-exciting night out and he's done lamenting the fact that the only evening he's missed in months is the one where something interesting finally happens.

Morgana shrugs, mostly because she doesn't know. She loves Merlin, more than she has ever loved another human being in her life, more than she ever will love another human being in her life, since she doesn't plan on having children, and after all the crap of the last few years, she needs Merlin to be happy just as much as she needs him to be safe.

And Gwaine...she might have suggested he date Merlin, but it was just for fun, just for Merlin to get out and live a little, live better than the life he's been living since Freya died. But the way he'd told her to keep quiet at the pub, the intensity of it, that spoke of something more than just fun, and Morgana doesn't know what to think of that.

"I don't know," she says softly, dropping the comb she's trying to drag through the knots in her hair on her dressing table and turning around on her stool. It'll be a bitch to finish brushing her hair tomorrow, when it's dry and the tangles are cemented in, but she can't be bothered tonight. Tonight, selfish as it is, she just wants to forget. "Talk to Merlin, I guess," she adds, her gaze holding Leon's as she walks towards his perch at the foot of their bed.

"I love you," Leon says, his arms opening for her as she approaches. His fingers stroke through her wet hair when she gets there, her own arms closing around him, her face pressed to his neck, breathing in the smell of him, home and peace and security, the rock she's relied on every single time things have been rough. "Stop worrying, Morgana. We'll deal with Merlin and Gwaine tomorrow."

He kisses her then, mouth soft against her own, lips parting when she presses forward, and Morgana has to smile, has to hold him closer. "I love you, too," she says, marvelling as ever that he always knows just what to say.

X

Gwaine used his elbow to open the bedroom door, a mug in each hand, the heat of the tea inside seeping through to not quite burn his fingers, then just paused, because what were burnt fingertips compared to a view like this one?

The light was off, quilt on his bed pushed back, clothes scattered across the floor, and there was Merlin, his back shining pale in the moonlight. He never shut the curtains, not when he was the first one upstairs, and Gwaine usually had more interesting things to think about when he joined him.

"Hey," Merlin said after a moment of Gwaine standing and staring, turning his head to one side so the words weren't lost in the pillow. "I'm not here just for you to gawk at, you know," he continued, then lowered his voice, and his next words Gwaine was fairly sure he wasn't meant to catch at all, "Last night and all that. Might as well remember it."

"Only the last if you want it to be," Gwaine answered, but words weren't going to convince anyone. Actions, on the other hand, and if this was what Merlin wanted...well, where Gwaine was concerned, Merlin was always going to get what he wanted, particularly when what he wanted was this.

The tea was long past cold before either of them got around to drinking it, but then Gwaine wasn't exactly complaining, was he?

X

Merlin was awake long before Gwaine, of that he had no doubt. He'd been awake long after him, too, and each time Gwaine woke up during the night Merlin was sitting up next to him, the light on and a book open in his hands, the pages never turning.

"Did you sleep at all?" Gwaine asked, curling onto his side facing Merlin, because what fun was _good_ _morning_?

Merlin shrugged, as much as shrugging was possibly with his shoulders pressed to the headboard. "Plenty, thanks," he said quietly, although the shadows under his eyes suggested otherwise, as did the almost palpable nervousness he was giving off. "Don't suppose you want to stay here all day, do you?"

"Want to, yeah," Gwaine said, "but I don't think it'll help any. Morgana knows where I live."

"Of course she does," Merlin said, a wan smile on his face, slumping further down and shuffling closer to Gwaine, so close that Gwaine almost had to hold him. "Last night must be the first time in an eternity she's had to face the fact that she doesn't know everything."

Gwaine had to grin at the thought, even if that probably wasn't what Merlin wanted from him. "To hell with Morgana," he said, pressing his mouth to Merlin's forehead. "She can say what she likes, but it ain't that easy to get rid of me." He didn't have enough time to convince Merlin, though, probably wasn't even such a thing as enough time, so Gwaine just kissed Merlin again, this time on the mouth, then pulled away in order to get out of bed. "Come on, you fool. You shower first, and I'll cook us breakfast."

Merlin was still there, huddled under the quilt, when Gwaine left the room, but by the time the kettle had boiled and Gwaine had a pan heating on the stove, the shower was running, which, he supposed, was better than it could have been.

X

"Gwen," Morgana says, breezing into the coffee shop, "Be a dear and let Merlin have a long lunch, would you? I need to borrow him."

Gwen stares at her, just a little exasperated, then rolls her eyes, almost amused. "Yes, fine, whatever. It's not like I'm trying to run a business here, you know. It'd be far easier if you didn't keep stealing my employees."

"I wouldn't if it wasn't important," Morgana promises. "You know that, Gwen."

"I know you think it's important, yes," Gwen answers, incredibly serious, leaning her arms on the counter. "But that isn't the same as it actually being important, and you need to learn that, Morgana."

"You're wrong, Gwen," Morgana says, feeling saddened, hurt, possibly even a little betrayed that she has to say it. It's Merlin, and it will always be important that Merlin is okay and, yeah, she's not exactly telling Gwen why it's important but that doesn't mean it isn't. "This matters."

"But he's happy, Morgana. You have to have seen it. He's happier than he's been in years. Don't spoil it by trying to find out why."

There is so much Morgana could say to that, so much she wants to say. She knows why Merlin is happy, she could say, knows who and what and why, and she could tell Gwen that she doesn't want to spoil it, she just wants to know how long Merlin thinks it's going to last. She won't say it, thought, because Gwaine asked her not to for Merlin's sake, and she can't tell anyone until she finds out why Merlin wants it kept a secret.

"Just tell him I'm here, please," she says instead. "He'll be expecting me anyway."

X

Even though Morgana has the entirety of this conversation laid out in her head, scripted and ready to go, even though she's checked it over and over again as they've walked from the cafe to a park about five minutes away, it's gone when Merlin sits down next to her on a bench, his desperation not to have this conversation detectable with almost every sense. She's going to start with asking him what's going on, why Merlin didn't tell her, whether he really thinks it's a good idea, if it's going to last much longer, and finally, maybe, she'll get to things that matter less.

But Merlin looks from her to the sandwich packet unopened in his lap, the coffee cup beside him, both paid for by Morgana, looks at her like she's the most terrifying thing he's ever seen in his life and the food she's giving him is undoubtedly poisoned, and only four words come to mind, words that under her vanished plan she figured probably weren't worth asking.

"Do you love him?"

From the way Merlin gawps at her, his gaze far more direct now, he knows she never meant to ask that, and Morgana thinks he was probably prepared for her original conversation, thinks he knows her well enough to have planned for her plan. It's a little comforting how much this one throws him, comforting that Merlin is as unprepared for this as Morgana is.

"I don't know, Morgana," he says, and maybe his surprise is lending him the honesty he seems to have been lacking of late because it certainly sounds like he's speaking the truth. "It's not...I mean, I'm not...I don't know. Not yet."

_No_, Morgana thinks, _I really don't know either_, and damn Gwen for ruining all her plans with her little 'let him be happy' speech. She doesn't know what to say now that she's started down this track, isn't sure how to get back to making sure Merlin is okay and is going to stay okay for a long, long time. "I see," she says quietly, lifting her cup of coffee and taking a sip.

"Does it matter?" Merlin asks after a minute of silence, a minute of Morgana drinking and him staring at her. "Would it make a difference if I'd said yes?"

Morgana smiles at him, just smiles, and Arthur has yelled at her so many times for that facial expression, and for her using it instead of words. He's accused her of trying to be mysterious, an enigma to be cracked, and Morgana has let him because to say _no, I smile like this when I have no idea what the question you're asking me means_ is more than her pride will let her admit to.

Merlin doesn't like the smile any more than Arthur does, she knows that, but Morgana needs the silence to get her thoughts back to where they started out, and this not knowing is more than she can admit to with Merlin, too. How is she supposed to help hold him together if he ever realises how much she doesn't understand either?

"You lied," she says, the coffee cup in her hand almost empty by now. Merlin's is still untouched, must be starting to go cold, and if Morgana has much heart as other people, as Gwen and Leon and Lancelot, she'd tell him to drink up, eat up, and maybe give up this entire conversation, but she can't. It's difficult, but she has to, and she will. She has to ask the questions the others won't, because ignoring everything won't do any good. "You both lied."

Merlin slumps lower, hunches his shoulders, stares at the floor like he's on the verge of breaking. "I wasn't planning to," he says, his hands dangling between his knees, fingers curling into fists and uncurling, over and over again. "I was just going to go out with him once, and then never call. There was never going to be any need to lie to you."

This isn't a surprise, of course it isn't, because as much as she loves Merlin she isn't blind and she isn't stupid, and Merlin's heart might once have been bigger than anyone's she's ever met, might still be, but it's a whole lot harder to get into it now. So much of Merlin died when Freya did, so little was left behind, and even through all Morgana's attempts to set Merlin up with Gwaine she never thought that it'd be anything more than what Merlin had planned. "What changed?" She asks, because it's Gwaine, irresponsible, reckless, easy Gwaine, and how can he be the one who got through to Merlin, who actually made an impact?

"I made a mistake," he tells her. "I picked someone who wanted more."

"Gwaine? Really?" Her disbelief is audible, too audible, but then it's pretty obvious in the words alone, no need for tone to emphasise it. She should have stopped them, she should, but it's too late to do anything about that now, and she might as well wait for Merlin's answer, even if it's just a shrug.

"I wasn't expecting it either," he says, quiet enough that Morgana has to lean in to hear him. "But then you knew him already, and you knew what he was like, and I wasn't ready for it to end." And then he looks at her with all the intensity of the old Merlin, all the strength and fire he's been missing, even on the most good of good days, and grips her hand in his. "I made him lie to you. The only person to blame is me."

"I know that, Merlin," she says. "What I don't know is why."

"Because once you knew, you'd tell him. Or Gwen would, or Arthur, and I didn't want him to know. I wanted him to stay too much for that."

Morgana doesn't need to ask what Merlin thinks they'd tell Gwaine, not when there is only one thing Merlin would worry about him finding out. "Maybe Gwaine deserves more credit than that," she says, as gently as she can, and it's a surprise that she's even thinking the words, let alone saying them. But Gwaine has talked so much about Merlin over the last few months, was so unhappy when the two of them seemed likely to break up (and oh, how much more sense that week makes now, the pair of them both so different from normal, so much brighter afterwards, and the evening Merlin just wasn't there), seems to have gone along with all Merlin's deceptions without complaint, and through all of it not even hinting that his secret someone was someone she knew. If Gwaine didn't care, he'd have told them, and that would have been that, the end.

"I think you can tell him, Merlin," she says. "He deserves to know, and I really don't think he's going to go anywhere just because of this."

"I know," Merlin says, his fingers still curled around her own, not tight enough to hurt now but still there, still holding on like she's the only thing keeping him there. "I'm just not ready for things to change."

"Do you love him?" She asks again, because she can't think of any other explanation.

Merlin smiles at her, brighter than the sun, and lets go, ripping into the sandwich package resting on his knees. "Ask me again tomorrow," he says. "Ask me then."

X

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Leon asked, letting himself into Gwaine's office – without knocking, or anything else close to his usual good manners – and locking the door behind him.

Well, Gwaine thought, that answered the question about whether Morgana was going to tell him, and possibly some of his musings about why Merlin was so wary about letting people know about them. "I _was_ trying to work out why our orders of meat have pretty much doubled these last few months. Was there something you wanted?"

"Don't be a smart arse, Gwaine, it doesn't suit you."

"Liar, it suits me perfectly. Now, do you have a point, or are you going to piss off?" So yeah, that was maybe uncalled for, but having six foot whatever (in the interest of saving his ego, Gwaine had done his best to avoid learning exactly how tall Leon was) of bloke shouting at him was hardly a politeness inducing occasion.

"Merlin. What the fuck are you doing with Merlin?"

"Do you actually want me to answer that question?" Gwaine replied, figuring he might as well do his absolute best to piss him off, if only because it might give Leon something other than Merlin to yell at him over. "Because I can, if you want details."

Leon sighed the sigh of the utterly exasperated, sitting himself opposite Gwaine and dragging a hand through his hair. "This isn't a laughing matter, Gwaine. You're messing with things you don't understand, and someone is going to get hurt. Chances are, that someone won't be you."

Actually, Gwaine was pretty sure it would be, given all Merlin's secrets and evasions and whatever the hell it was that had Leon so angry at him. But even so, it was his choice, and Merlin's choice, and Gwaine had promised him that other people's opinions of them weren't going to change anything. "Has it occurred to you that we're both grown adults? Who are you to decide what Merlin does?"

"We're people who care," Leon answered, stubborn as fuck, his expression quite clearly suggesting he wasn't willing to give an inch.

"Using the royal we, are you? In case you haven't noticed, you're the only person who seems to think my relationship with Merlin is your business." And yeah, Gwaine had been expecting hostility, mostly because Merlin was so sure there was going to be some, but he was expecting it to come from Morgana; it wasn't like Leon was known for having a short temper, and all the times Gwaine had heard raised voices coming from the kitchen the only voice actually raised had been Morgana's. He was expecting Morgana to be the one here yelling at him. That she wasn't probably only made things worse, because it meant she'd be after Merlin instead.

"You're damn right it's my business, since I'm one of the many people who'll have to pick up whatever pieces are left of Merlin when you inevitably screw him over."

"When I _what_?" Gwaine found himself saying, all indignation and fierce, angry pride.

"Don't act all surprised," Leon said, and it was the utterly calm, matter of fact tone to his voice that was the most offensive thing about it. "You know exactly what you're like. Commitment is pretty much a foreign concept to you."

Well, that was just...okay, fine, it maybe was called for, because Gwaine didn't have a great track record with relationships. But it was different, _Merlin_ was different, and surely the amount of time they'd been together proved that. "It's been months. Feels kind of like commitment to me."

"And maybe it would be, if you knew anything about him," Leon argued, nothing close to compassion on his face or in his posture. "But you don't, and when you do you'll decide whatever you have with Merlin is far too much effort to maintain. You'll drop him like he means nothing to you, rather than deal with the fact that life isn't meant to be easy."

"You think Merlin's made things easy?" Gwaine snapped, lurching to his feet and trying not to feel intimidated when Leon copied him. "You think I like that he lies to everyone about me, or that he tells me absolutely fucking nothing? You think it's easy?"

"I think _you_ are."

Right. That was enough. "We're done here," Gwaine said, storming around Leon and yanking the door open.

"We are not," Leon answered, not making a single move towards the door. "End this now, before he cares enough about you for it to hurt."

"No, we're done here," Gwaine repeated, determined to make himself absolutely clear. "Go home, Leon. You're taking a week of holiday, and don't come back until you're willing to stop being a dick."

Leon stared at him, then turned on his heel and walked out, without a word of further argument. The bastard didn't even have the bad manners to slam the door behind him, just shut it in a quiet, normal fashion.

It made Gwaine feel the tiniest bit immature for throwing a paperweight at the door after him. Then again, it also made him feel better, so that was justification enough.

X

Gwaine stayed at his desk for what may well have been hours, for all he knew, staring at the fragments of glass by the door. What was so bad, he wondered, that Leon thought he'd walk when he found it out rather than sticking with Merlin. What was so awful that he'd risk his job to argue for it, that he wouldn't even consider the possibility that Gwaine could find out and still want to stick around?

There were things he could think of, of course, things that would be deal-breakers, no questions asked, just over and done. But that Merlin could be capable of them, mentally or physically, was too absurd to contemplate. It wasn't happening, not a chance in hell, and no, Gwaine didn't believe it. He wasn't going to walk, however difficult Merlin's secrets made things, however difficult finding them out made things, and anyone who couldn't deal with that fact could just fuck the hell off.

Much as Leon had done, actually, and, it being nearly lunchtime, Gwaine had some explaining to do. And then, he thought, stepping over the remnants of the paperweight in front of the door, probably some clearing up.

"Right, you lot," he said, shutting the kitchen door once he was inside, every pair of eyes on him. "Leon is otherwise occupied for the foreseeable future. Who's the best cook?"

It wasn't an ideal solution, not by a long way, but it was pretty much the only one he had.

"Okay," he continued, once all the fake modesty and bullshit denials were done with, rolling his sleeves up as he walked over to the sink to scrub his hands clean, then looking at the oh-so-fortunate temporary (God, he hoped it was going to be temporary, and Leon would pull his head out of his arse and come back again _soon_, because looking for a replacement would be a bitch) boss of his kitchen. "What can I do to help?"

X

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Morgana asks, getting home to find Leon perched on the edge of the sofa. It's a lovely surprise, it really is, because she so rarely gets to spend the evening with him; it's a great job he's got, particularly after all the rubbish ones he's had after getting his culinary qualifications, but he's so bloody busy, and sometimes she misses him. It's why she spends so much time there, not that she'll ever say it, but Leon knows anyway and no one else needs to.

Leon looks up at her, his expression bleaker than the bleakest winter morning. "I don't have a job to be at," he says, grey and grim. "Gwaine fired me."

_Oh_, Morgana thinks, and that really wasn't something she was expecting. _I was ill_, that was more along the lines of what she'd thought, or maybe _Gwaine_ _gave me the evening off for being such a wonderful, supportive friend_, if she was being particularly optimistic-slash-insane.

"No!" she says. "Oh, that _bastard_. After I stuck up for him today, as well. I'm bloody well going to kill him."

Leon just pales.

X

It should be worrying, getting home and finding someone in his house. Anyone sensible would be concerned, at the very least, but then sensible wasn't something Gwaine'd ever claimed to be.

"That you, Merlin?" he called, although it was pretty much a dumb question, since the humming coming from the direction of the kitchen had a tunelessness to it Gwaine recognised.

"Nope," Merlin's voice answered. "It's a burglar."

Gwaine laughed, but his heart wasn't really in it, not after the day he'd had. "At least do me the courtesy of pouring me a beer before you rob me blind, Mr Burglar?" he joked, but his heart wasn't anywhere near being close to that one, either.

Merlin mumbled something then, quiet and almost scared, Gwaine thought, and it sounded an awful lot like, "Yeah, you might need it." Which it may well have been, but Gwaine wasn't going to consider that, wasn't going to let it be that, because his day had been shitty enough without anything more happening.

Sure enough, though, there was an open bottle and a glass on the table in the kitchen when Gwaine got there, a bottle, a glass, and Merlin looking like a puppy waiting to be kicked.

"I need to tell you something," he said, perching on the counter and swinging his legs back and forth, eyes on his feet and not Gwaine. "You might want to sit down."

"How did you get in here?" Gwaine answered, because he might have only had to deal with Leon today but clearly, that meant Merlin had had to face Morgana. There was no chance in hell Gwaine was going to get dumped, not when he'd already as good as fired his friend in order to avoid that.

"Oh," Merlin said, like it hadn't even occurred to him that Gwaine might wonder. "Morgana used to date a locksmith."

Right, because that made perfect sense. "So you had her break into my house in broad daylight. At least tell me you came in through the back door?"

"I came in through the back door?" Merlin answered, in a perfectly apparent _this is bullshit_ tone, then shook it off. "Look, this is sort of important. We need to talk."

Gwaine sank then, taking the bottle with him, back against the fridge and the cool of the kitchen tiles leaching through his jeans to his skin. "Please," he said, not even able to muster the energy to care how much it sounded like begging. "Please, Merlin, not tonight. However good Morgana's arguments for you leaving me were, they'll wait. Let me think that we're alright for tonight, yeah?"

He didn't look up, eyes fixed on the bottle in his hands, fingers picking at the label piece by piece. It was a habit his mam had spent years trying to break him of when he was younger, fed up of the thousands of jars and bottles with half-shredded labels in the house when he was a kid, but anxiety always brought it back. _Please_, he wanted to say, _please_ and _Merlin_ and _please_ again, but he had some pride, or could at least pretend he did.

"Oh," Merlin said, quiet and kind. "Hey, no, that's not it. Morgana was surprisingly okay with it, actually. I'm not ending this." He paused, and the next thing Gwaine heard was his feet hitting the tiles as he hopped down from the counter, then padding across the room to sit on the floor next to him, resting a hand on Gwaine's knee. "I'm not breaking up with you," he repeated, "and, actually, after how adamant you were that what everyone else thought didn't matter, I'm a little surprised you thought that might be it."

"Yeah, well, while you had Morgana being 'surprisingly okay with it', I had Leon storming into my office and ordering me to dump you before you cared enough about me that it would hurt. Because, apparently, I'm not going to be able to deal with finding out all the shit that you're keeping secret."

"He didn't," Merlin murmured, his tone that of someone who believed entirely what he was hearing but probably felt obliged to deny it anyway. "That...I'm going to kill him, I really am."

Gwaine managed a laugh at that, if only because the image of Merlin trying to take on Leon was so utterly absurd. Then again, the scary protectiveness that all Merlin's friends seemed to have going on probably meant that Leon would just let him. "Leave it a few days, yeah? It'd hardly be fair to murder him the same day he lost his job, would it?" He looked up then, up from the floor and the bottle and the tiny scrunched up bits of paper littering his legs and wedged under his nails, and smiled, sort of hopelessly, but then wasn't that him all over?

"Good," Merlin said, meeting his eyes. "I'll still kill him, but not just yet."

He smiled, stood up, and offered Gwaine his hand. "Drink up," he said. "We can talk tomorrow."

Gwaine was halfway to his feet, wrist clasped in Merlin's hand, Merlin's wrist clasped in his, ready to drain the dregs of the bottle in his other hand, then kiss Merlin, see if they could manage something slightly less frantic than last night, now that they were both certain they were at least going to last the week. Halfway there, and then came the hammering on the door, someone battering at it almost hard enough to break it down.

"I don't suppose you're expecting a late night visitor, are you?" Merlin asked, frowning even as he joked.

Gwaine shrugged, which was sort of a rubbish answer, but he didn't have much idea who it might be anyway. "Ignore them and hope they go away?" he suggested, plonking the empty bottle down on the counter beside him and using the grip Merlin still on him to pull him in.

Merlin smiled down at him, soft and agreeable. "Bed?"

"Bed," Gwaine agreed, and that, really, was the best thing he'd heard all day.

Except the hammering wasn't bloody going away, was it, nor was the person doing it, and wasn't that just bloody perfect.

"Oi, you fuckers!" Morgana yelled from outside. "I've already broken in once today, don't make me have to do it again!"

Merlin was gone from his arms before Gwaine knew what was happening, down the hall from the kitchen to the front door, turning the key and opening the door before Gwaine had the chance to suggest that maybe letting the crazy yelling person into his home wasn't the smartest thing they could do. "'Gana?" Merlin asked. "What's up?"

Morgana stared past Merlin, or around him, maybe, her icy, dead, terrifying eyes boring straight into Gwaine's. "I'm staying here for a few nights," she said, not a request or a plea or anything even remotely like a question.

"I _beg_ your pardon?"

"Me stay here," she said slowly, pointing to herself, then at Gwaine. "You get bag from car. I'm sorry, I don't know how to convey that in any fewer syllables."

"Nope," Gwaine answered. "No, no way, not happening, go home, sorry, way too many people here already."

"No," she said, pushing past Merlin into the house.

And then, just to make Gwaine's day complete, she burst into tears, noisy, nasty, snotty tears, uglier than anyone as beautiful as her had any right to be crying, stumbling against Merlin and clinging to him like a limpet.

"We broke up," she sobbed, although how Gwaine managed to make out words when her face was smooshed against Merlin's chest he'd never know. "We broke up and it's your fault, Gwaine, so go get my bags from the car and find me somewhere to sleep, _now_."

Funnily enough, he wasn't quite brave enough to refuse.


End file.
